


The Inside Man

by Khohshekh



Series: The Inside Man [1]
Category: 9lives (Band), Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Beating, Blood and Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Death, Fights, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gay Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Making Out, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Mild Kink, Mischief, Murder, Murder Mystery, Organized Crime, Physical Abuse, Plot Twists, Rape, References to Drugs, Rough Sex, Scheming, Secrets, Singing, Threesome - M/M/M, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-03-05 09:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khohshekh/pseuds/Khohshekh
Summary: Danny Murillo, a young street performer is a mere leaf drifitng through the wind as he follows his dreams. When he unexpectedly walks into an esectric group of mistfits like himself with mysteries of stealing a strange file, and he must find a way out before he meets his inevidable end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A series. Bare with me, here.

_“Danny… wake up, sleepyhead…” fingertips tiptoed a path up his naked thigh, sneaking through the underside of his boxers. “Come on, sweetheart. I’m not mad at you anymore, get up.”_

_Danny’s eyes flashed, yet he couldn’t see a thing. Hands caressed his body, yanking him up against the occupant. “Morning, beautiful…” They whispered, pinching his nose while rubbing a cold circle onto his back. “Aw, don’t cry... everything’s gonna be okay, now.” Tears stung against the blindfold, cold metal tore through his wrists, and he couldn’t help but beg for his life once more. “Please… just let me go… I wanna go home…”_

+=+=+=+=+ TWO WEEKS EARLEIR +=+=+=+=+=+

“Where’s LA, where’s LA, where’s L Aayyyy… what ever happened to the city we knew… Oh, where’s LA, where’s LA, where’s L ayyy… Whatever happened to the city we knew~”

His voice was steady, and beautiful, his mind clouded with raging flames and shooting stars. They said he was no angel, though. Who was, anyways? He was fading, but his music was exceptional.  
A petty street rat, perhaps. A tumbleweed caught by the breeze, absolutely. After the death of his father, it was just him, his two brothers, and his mom. She could hardly handle 3 children as a single mother, but she somehow managed. Just like her son barely managed.  
Danny wasn’t the most popular boy in school. A scene kid in high school, he was in college for music, spending a lot of his time as a street performer, just trying to make himself known to the world. 

Still, he liked to think he was chasing his dream in a way… Like making music and singing to the people passing by the busy streets would fulfill something in his life. One day, he was going to change the world with his music. 

He checked his watch: 7:46pm. Fuck, and he could feel rain droplets on his jacket. He’d have to try to hail a cab, except there weren't any in sight. People were starting to disappear as the streets began to turn dark with rainwater. Danny scrunched his nose, fumbling with his guitar case. The wind caught a few of his dollar bills, and they began drifting away with the wind, desperate hands racing to catch them before they blew away. “Shit…” 

Falling to his knees, he began to gather his bills, spotting a pair of boots that caused a halt in his actions. Before he could look up, the person kneeled down, and picked up the remaining bills, stacking them neatly before handing them over. “I believe the starving artist earns his reward when deserved… here.”  
“Uh… thanks,” Danny shakily took the bills back, joining them with his pile, shoving them into his left back pocket. When he looked back up, the man had his hand out, and he hesitantly took it with an awkward smile. As the storm began to progress, rain fell harder, pouring on the two men. Danny picked up his guitar, and they shifted a few feet to the side as cover from the environment. 

It became dark quickly, and the young street singer couldn’t see this man’s face very well, which made him a little nervous. Once his eyes were adjusted, he noticed a familiarity in the man’s face. “Have we met before…?”  
“I don’t believe so. Not officially. I’ve seen you perform the streets before… I’m Dylan.” The pieces fell for Daniel, and he found memory of seeing him before. He was one of Jorel’s friends… Jorel, who also played guitar and a little bit of drums, was but a leaf struggling to hang on, eventually drifting through the wind to lay on the ground. “Oh, that’s right! You’re one of Jorel Decker’s friends … Danny,” they shook hands. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“How do you know Jorel?”  
“He would come to the college sometimes and skateboard, and play his guitar to girls.” Danny took a break to snicker, flashbacks of that handsome tattooed man drawing a crowd.  
A flash of thunder broke Danny’s attention, peering through the empty flooded streets. “Shit… I’m never gonna find a taxi in this fucking weather…” Dylan shuddered. He turned up the collar on his coat, hitching breath.  
“You need a ride or some shit? My car is a few blocks away, but I can take you home.”  
“Really? You’d do that?”  
“Yeah, you live with your parents or?”  
“No…” Dylan had a distant and concerned look on his face. “Uh, roommates.”

“Cool.. uh.. Come on.” Danny felt weird taking a stranger into his car for a ride. Still, he kinda knew Jorel, so what harm could giving his friend a ride be?  
Dylan didn’t seem awkward at all being in Danny’s beaten up Toyota Corolla. As he instructed directions, Danny tried not to think about the worst: Dylan could be leading him to his doom, like a kidnapper, or mass murderer. No, that’s ridiculous. But not out there… this IS Los Angeles… he needs to lay off the investigator shows.

The tattooed passenger lead him to outskirts of town, to a sketchy looking gate. “Uh… are we allowed to be here?”  
“Well, yeah. It’s not private property.”  
“What’s out here?”  
“Where I live, duh.” Danny was having that nasty feeling again… the kind of feeling you’d get as you were travelling down the stairs to your dark basement. It made his skin crawl, the hairs on his neck stand, and the episodes of those shows, as stupid as it sounded, were replaying in his mind. “Your house is out here? How do your parents, er… roommates live out here?”

Dylan’s answer was a chilling silence, and Danny realized that was probably rude. “Uh… My parents gave up on me. Me and my roommates live out here, away from society. All of us, outcasted and disposable. Filth set aside from the glamour that is LA.”

Danny understood the statement to a point. He knew what it was like to be an outcast, to not really fit in anywhere. His dorky personality, scene look, and inability to make friends never allowed him to be a part of any crowd. The road beyond took them to what looked like an old farmhouse. There were three cars parked outside, and with the porch light illuminating the front yard, stood a tall, broad figure puffing out smoke from a lit cigarette. 

“If you wanna come in, that’s cool.” Dylan spoke with so much slur, he wouldn’t pronounce the ‘L’ in ‘cool’, all verbs coming out sound like Snoop Dogg possessed his body. Not wanting to be inconsiderate, Danny turned off his car. “Only for a minute…”

“Aight, man. I’ll introduce ya.” Dylan hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt, reaching for the door, hesitating. “Wait, let me warn ya, don’t try to be a funny guy, just go along with everything, aight?”  
“Uh…?”  
“Come on, let’s go.”

The man out front abandoned the cigarette, declining it to the concrete before jabbing it with his toe. “Dylan!”  
“Sup, homie!” Danny tried to let his concern go, leaving it behind in the car. “This is Danny, college boy from Puerto Rico.”  
“Costa Rica…” Danny mumbled, faking a smile. Again, the man’s face was familiar, but he just couldn’t put a finger on the resemblance.  
“Johnny…” he nodded. “Parents tossed him to the streets like me, and he changed his name, never going back. Fuck this world, right?” Dylan shook his head in dismay, granting himself that distant stare once more. “Anyways,” he jolted the expression off, opening the door. “Come on in, meet the rest of the gang.

Johnny… why was this name so familiar? Danny continued his journey inside the building, squinting his eyes to adjust to the faint light emanating from a single lamp that spilled small features of the room. A sectional couch, old 22 inch box TV, a huge bookshelf, a dining table with chairs. The kitchen was smaller-- a mini fridge with counters and overhanging cabinets, with a kitchen island full of booze and drugs. He could see the bathroom through a doorway, typical but dirty looking. There were two doors closed that would be expected as bedrooms, but who knows. 

On the couch were two other men, hardly paying attention. The TV was static, playing reruns of the Blacklist, telling Daniel that they relied on DVDs rather than cable TV. Wouldn’t surprise him, it seemed far enough away from any signal, phone or TV.

“That’s Matt, and Jordon-- call him Charlie. Jorel and Aron are either away or in the rooms.”  
“Aron should be back anytime.” Johnny corrected, stepping into the light to take a seat on the couch, and it suddenly hit Danny. Johnny 3 Tears. A notorious gang member-- he’s broken into the high school, blew up a car, vandalized the college, and had a reputation for handling a steady amount of drugs. He stayed quiet. 

Dylan pulled him onto the couch. Although Danny didn’t want to stay, he did not dare to object. Instead, he sat in awkward silence as they watched the Blacklist, much like one would the first time they visited any friend’s house. It wasn’t until one of the bedroom doors opened, and Jorel himself was in the doorway. “Who the fuck are you?”  
The singer’s eyes first flashed to Dylan for him to answer, but he said nothing. “Hello?!”

“Uh… Danny Murillo?”  
“Ohh, yeah. You’re the street guitarist, always on Boulevard for cash.”  
“I guess?”  
“You here to join?” He pulled up one of the dining chairs, flipping it around to sit backwards on it. He crossed his arm, a strange smirk smeared on his face.  
“Join what..?” Daniel looked more confused than a child taking Latin classes. 

“He gave me a ride home, Jorel. That’s it.” Dylan didn’t take his eyes off the television. “He’s just drying up and he’ll be out the door.”  
Jorel looked nervous; he never saw that kind of look on a man with that strong of a jaw. “Dylan… why the fuck did you bring him here?” His voice was a little apprehensive. “Chill, dude. There was no way in fuck I was walking back in this storm.”

“I can- I can leave, if--”  
“Yeah, you really should.” Jorel stood up, Dylan copying him. “Don’t you start, Dylan.”  
“It’s not like he knows anything, J. We’ve seen him before, a rat like us. You really think he’s gonna go around throwing talk like this?”  
“Whatever, just get him out of here before Aron comes back. I really don’t want to get into shit with him tonight.”  
“You’re the leader, don’t let him push you around like a bitch.”  
“Please, leave.” Jorel ignored the Hispanic, eyes locked on Danny.  
“Okay, I’ll leave, it’s fine…” it was a blessing to him, anyways. 

“Jorel! Aron just pulled up!” Jordon interrupted.  
“Shit! This is all your fucking fault! You shouldn’t have let him come in this god damn house unless you had intentions on letting him stay here…”  
“My fault?! He can just fucking leave, who cares what Aron thinks? Danny, just go. Ignore Aron.”  
“Who’s--” The door swung open, and the figure put down a backpack by the doorway, removing the hood from his jacket. “Ah, yeah. Fuck, it’s raining hard as shit! What’s up, Big Deuce in the house, baby! Jorel, what’s up, dude?” The silence following could pierce Danny’s skin.

“.... Who’s this?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Who’s this?”  
“Danny. He was just leaving.” Jorel answered for him, escorting him to the door.  
“Whoa, what’s the rush? Is he here for the--”  
“No, Aron. He’s not. He’s leaving, and we won’t be seeing him again.”  
“Oh, come on, we need another anyways.”  
“We aren’t getting another soul involved with this. Just fucking drop it, dude. Remember your place…”  
“My place?! It’s fucking second place, sucking your dick while these bastards watch, so don’t even start.”

“Thanks for coming, Danny.” Jorel sneered so darkly, it sent shivers down the singer’s spine. The door was opened, and he was shoved out the door, flinching at it as it slammed shut. He ran for his car, getting the fuck out of there. 

“What the fuck, dumbass?” Aron wailed, following Jorel down the hallway.  
“I told you to drop it. I’m dealing with Dylan later, he shouldn’t have brought a fucking stranger here without permission, especially if there’s no intentions to bring him in.”  
“Fuck Dylan! What about the kid?” Aron slammed the door shut behind him. If they were going to fight about this, he didn’t want anyone else to know about any final decisions. Jorel may have been the official leader, but he wouldn’t stand so upright without Aron, unfortunately. “What about him? He’s a meek college student.”

“Do you think he knows who George is? Who Matt is?! Oh shit, if he finds out who Matt is, we’re ALL going to prison.”  
“He doesn’t know anything, alright? Dylan may be fucking stupid, but he wouldn’t just sit here and say ‘Hey! We’re all--’”  
“I want him in.”

Jorel growled, prying the latter with vengeful eyes. “We don’t need an 7th person. When Jordon was forced to join, not only did he almost rat on all of us, but we cut food rations. And why the fuck would you want him anyways?”  
“Looks tasty to me…” Aron had his perverted facade, so obvious that his lips were resisting curling a devious smile. “What harm could having our own personal slut around come to?”

“We need reasonable options for him to join. Dylan’s resources is why he came in. That, and he had nowhere to go. Danny seems like too much of a goodie goodie who still lives with his mom. He can't just be our slut.”  
“Aw, come on. I’ll look after him. I’ll feed him, walk him, change his newspapers…”  
“What did I say?!” Jorel had grown tired of the conversation, not at all amused at Aron’s attempts to pass humor. He raised his hand and flashed his hand passed Aron’s face, striking him hard enough to make him stumble. “I fucking said NO!”

Aron pouted, but said nothing else. He knew he couldn’t fight back once the leader showed this level of aggression. “Alright then… but you can’t expect Dylan to walk free, right? What if he sees Danny again and brings him back? Then what?”  
“....”  
“We’d really be in jeopardy, Jorel.” It was almost a whisper.

“.... Then we assure Dylan won’t even think about him. Fetch him for me; he needs to be reminded who gives permission for friends over.” When Aron dashed out of the room, he had to take a second to whip away the maniacal grin on his face. Dylan would get what’s coming to him, and he couldn’t help but be pleased. 

Dylan apparently was expecting it as well, considering he was already standing like a patient awaiting their doctor’s appointment. “He need me?”  
“He wants you.” Aron corrected, shaking his head as well. “I’m pretty sure George should come to, and, you guys might want to cover your ears,” the rest of the group was instructed, but Dylan scoffed. “No, don’t. I won't cry this time…” he mumbled with anguish, and followed Aron down the hall, George close behind.

+=+=+=+=+

Join what?! He didn’t want to think about the possibilities. A cult? Were they some sort of demon worshipers? No, that’s stupid. Well, not impossible. Murderers? No, they wouldn’t be able to live so out in the open if they were. Then again, Jeffrey Dahmer did. They never caught the Zodiac Killer, either. All of this was too much. He was glad he made it out.  
At last, he made it home, slipping his wet shoes off at the door and setting them on the vent to dry. His mother was asleep on the couch, the TV still on. He could tell she had been crying, probably worried about his whereabouts. She didn’t like the fact that he was out on the streets playing guitar at all. It was almost midnight as he undressed, his own heavy breaths distracting him in unison with the running water.

Danny washed the stress away, praying the encounter would somehow dissipate with the warm shower. Stranger things had never happened to him. Thank goodness school was tomorrow. He couldn’t care less for school, the affection towards it was simply nothing, but if it was another step towards his dream, so be it. He stood in the shower for what seemed akin to hours, quietly thankful he got out of the mess.

Dylan… he was really something. Maybe that’s why he agreed to drive him home: the plead of a puppy glossed his eyes. They were the most gorgeous pair of chocolate eyes he had encountered before.  
Fuck! No, don’t think about him in that way! His curiosity was taking over, and his sick mind wondered for a moment if seeing him again would be that terrible. Not at that house though. Fuck that shit. 

School was rough, as per usual. At least it wasn’t high school, and Danny could blend in with everyone as just another college student. His loneliness wasn’t so apparent as it was in high school. This was the last week before spring break. 

LA Academy of Music wasn’t a rough life; he had ‘friends’ but still stood alone. Shit, he still lived with his mother! He had no choice, really. Who else would take care of her while her mind deteriorated? When his father left and she was left with 3 boys who looked like him, she was alone. Now all she had was Danny, while everyone else just packed up and left.

He wanted to find the streets again, but he was worried he’d see Dylan. Shit, did he even want to be found? Okay. If he shows somehow, cool, if not, whatever. Just no rides. He walked. Yeah, that’s good.

Danny found a bench on a popular shopping street in downtown LA, and after a few practice strums, found a perfect harmony. “Someone left the door open… who left me outside… I’m bent, I’m not broken.. Come live in my life.”

Over an extended period of time, Danny decided to pack up with a whopping $16 left to bless him. It wasn’t particularly late-- almost 6 P.M., and if he had known any better, this was the time the Californian sun began to dive back down after her day’s work. This also meant all the weirdos and crack-heads would be lurking, and fuck that noise  
Danny had walked from the college, so his car was still hopefully parked where he left it. Although it wasn’t cold, there was a certain chill in the air as if he were walking through a haunted house.

People continued to shuffle, most of them just getting off work. Danny could already see the pestisides roaming, including a few homeless people. Not that he minded, he could understand. Shit, a drug dealer… those bastards were like kiosks to Danny-- trying to stop him to sell their latest high.  
From the looks of it, he was obtaining attention from two poor souls. With his back turned and hood up, he looked like a skinny, starving guy, but not so much the type to do heavy drugs himself, just sell them for profit. Just… keep walking, Danny.

“Daniel?”  
Fuck! Who the fuck was a drug dealer that he knew? Couldn’t run now… “Dylan?” Even worse. And Jordon, too. The strangers were dismissed, and the duo began to approach Danny, stuffing wads of cash into their pockets. “Uh… I don’t want any, thank you.”  
“Our shit’s too strong for you, anyways.” Jordon chuckled, chewing on the butt of a lit cigarette while he counted his bills. “200.”  
“Fuck, we’re really falling behind, dude.” 

“Uh, $200 sounds like a lot of money?” Danny questioned aloud, regretting it immediately.  
“For your information, little girl…” Jordon sneered, taking a puff and blowing smoke in Danny’s face, making him gag. “We have 2 grams left, and we should be up to $300 by now, and we haven’t even sold out yet, and it's not even---”  
“Shut up, dude. He doesn’t understand the industry. He’s into music and shit.” Dylan smiled warmly, it made Danny’s heart skip a beat, only for a moment though, and he squinted his eyes. “Hey… what’s wrong with your eye?”

Dylan blinked quickly. “Uh.. what do you mean?”  
“You have like… a black eye or some shit? And…” he cocked his head. “Your cheek? Did you get in a fight?”  
“Uh…” He looked at Jordon; he shaked his head at him, narrowing his eyes. “Uh… yeah! Earlier today, you should’ve fucking seen it! This punk ass kid, got only two hits on me, beat the shit out of him, though.”  
“For what…?” Danny looked more concerned now, knitting his eyebrows in curiousity.  
“Um… sold me short a few ounces of Mary Jane…”  
“So you fought a kid for that?”  
“He hit first.”  
“Well sure, but--”

“OKAY. Dylan, we should get going, right?” Jordon shook Danny’s hand by force. “It’s been great talking to ya, but we gotta go, or we’ll miss the greyhound buses, and the good sellers come off those. Dylan.”  
“Just a minute. Uh… Danny I hope we bump into each other again.” Dylan smiled again. His eyes had some sort of twinkle, and the latter couldn’t help but stare. “Uh… yeah. I'm sure we will I… don’t go anywhere else, right?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He took a moment to snicker, lightly touching his eye. “Uh… yeah. See ya.” with a little wave, he turned, and started walking around with Jordon, bumping shoulders. Dylan had a little limp in his step as he walked away. Danny sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, but continuing anyways.  
“Fuck… I feel all dirty. Poor guy could’ve gone on with life and the next day we do this?” Daniel was gone when Dylan looked over his shoulder.  
“We’re not doing anything, dude. We’re just a distraction. Let Aron do his thing… if he wants to get in trouble so bad, saves you another beating.”  
Dylan rubbed his eye again. He had a momentary flashback of last night…

_“You wanted to see me, Jorel?” George slammed the door behind them._  
“Aron, get out.”  
“But--”  
“You’re not staying in here so you can find pleasure in this. Fuck off.” Aron growled, but left without another word. “And you, mister.” Dylan hitched his breath, taking the hit to his face. “Save it, Jorel. I shouldn’t have brought him into the house, yadda yadda.”  
“You shouldn’t have even brought him to this location! Even if you had intentions on bringing him in this group, why the fuck wouldn’t you tell me?” Jorel’s fist balled up again and hit Dylan’s gut, once for pain, twice to knock him down. “George--”  
The Irishman mounted Dylan on one knee, and fisted his hair, raising his head. Jorel kneeled down, holding his chin in his hands.  
“It was irrational, I know. I knew the kid, I didn’t say anything.”  
“Doesn’t matter now. If you even think about bringing him back again…”  
“I won’t. Don’t worry.”  
“Doesn’t matter now… You must take the rest.” He slammed his head down, backed away, and watched George do the rest. 

 

As Danny continued the streets, his guitar bumping his leg as he trotted along. The college was in view, and he couldn’t be more relieved. Pulling out his keys, he fumbled to find the right one, shoving it in the keyhole,  
Once Aron approached, he grabbed Danny’s throat, slamming him against the car and putting a gun to his head. “Any sudden movements or noises, you drop dead here. You understand?”


	3. Chapter 3

Aron’s car ride was so, so uncomfortable. 

It wasn’t just the lack of music or light, either. Aron had surprised Danny from behind when he was trying to enter his vehicle, putting a gun to his head and demanding to come with him quietly. He wrapped a black bag over his head, escorting him into the passenger seat of his car. Once inside Aron’s car, a dark blue 1990 Chevy Caprice, the only splitting noise apart from the engine’s roar, was his own heart trying to escape its cage. 

Danny couldn’t figure out where he was being taken. Maybe to that farmhouse again. He knew there was something strange about this group… he was starting to regret offering Dylan a ride. Bigger issues here, it was like he was kidnapped. No… he was kidnapped. Gun to the head, being forced into his car and taken to wherever. This was a kidnapping. What would his mother do…

“Are you going to kill me…?” Danny at last questioned, trembling with fear. Aron’s silenced struck him with even more emotion than he can handle. He glanced over for only a moment, then shifted gears, accelerating. 

“That’s not my job.” he said at last, watching his surroundings as if he were trying to find an address. “I’ll leave that to someone else, if necessary.”  
“If you’re talking about the group, I don't know anything… I don’t know who you people are. Just leave me alone, please.”  
“You know who Jorel is.”  
“Yeah, he skates by the college and sometimes performs, too.”

Aron chuckled, almost in disbelief, shaking his head. “I know for a fact you recognized at least one of us. George Ragan? Matthew Busek? Or shit, even Dylan Alvarez, he has a record, alright.”

“So you’re… kidnapping me because you think I’ll know who you are and… turn you in?” Danny was trying to process anything useful, being careful with his words. Anything he said could get him shot, or maybe even freed. 

“You could say that’s part of it, but nevermind that. Has Dylan mentioned anything about a gang? About you joining anything? Seeing him again?”  
“He just said earlier he hoped we would bump into each other again.”  
“When? When he was on his drug run with Charlie?”  
“Yeah?”

“Of course.” He shifted gears again, slowing the car down. Danny hated the fact that he couldn’t see anything; he could be keeping track of where they were headed. Of course, that was probably the point.

“Then… what are you gonna do with me?” Probably murder him out here and dump him where no one would see him again. “Realistically, I should just bring you to the group right now, but I wanted to ask you first. Jorel told me to drop it, but I just couldn’t. Neither could Dylan. But I want you…” through darkness, his eyes narrowed in a sensual, cosmetic way. “Want me…?” Danny shifted more towards the door, uncomfortable. 

Aron exited the vehicle, slamming it shut and making his way to the other side. He yanked Danny out of the car, tossing him on the ground and locking the car doors. Danny could suddenly feel some sort of rope or wire wrap around his neck, kicking up gravel and digging his fingers in the lashing in any desperate attempt to breathe. Aron dragged him across the dirt, and he suddenly felt himself being hurled up steps, and a door opening. 

Once inside, Aron kicked the door open, allowing Danny to take a short breath, for only a moment before he started tying his hands together behind his back, tearing the bag off his head. “Quit your fucking crying.”  
“I wanna go home…” Danny wailed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don't know who you people are… I swear if you let me go, I won't say anything.”  
“I’ll let you go… but in case you were wondering, your visit here means the world to me…” Aron snickered, sitting him up to face him. Leaning him against a wall. “I’m gonna offer you a place in my little gang.”

“I don't want to join a gang! I just wanna go home to my mom… She can't live without me… “  
“You still live with your mom?” Aron was amused, and stared in disbelief, like Danny should be ashamed of the fact. “Yes… I’m all she has left. She needs someone before her mind deteriorates completely.”  
“Oh, come on. It's not like you’d never see her again…” Aron was partially lying. Depending on what Jorel had to say about all this. After a while, he’d probably let him out of the house. Shit, he had college to go to. With a goodie-goodie like Danny, for him to suddenly vanish would be suspicious, even if it wasn’t noticeable. His mother…

“Why do you want me, anyways? I’m nothing like you people.”  
“A mission, if you will. You’re what we like to call bait. There’s a few things you’d be useful for. But I don't know yet.. I just see something in you.”  
“Well, forget it… I can't leave my mom, or school.”  
“Who said you’d be locked up? You just fucking think about it… you’ve really gotten yourself into this.”  
“I just gave Dylan a ride home!”

Aron shifted, grinning. “You think he asked for one just because? Dylan has a car, you know. You’re a loner, just another face in the crowd. Dylan is too; which makes it so easy for him to take you without anyone noticing. He approached you knowing he could get away with taking you, and if he brought you back to the house, he had intentions on keeping you, no matter how much he denies it. He wants you… and so do I. I hope you know I made him and Jordon find you earlier.”

“Why would he want me…? I don't know him.”  
“I don't know about him, but…” Aron slid his hand behind Danny’s neck, his other one beginning to loosen the buttons on his pants. Danny trembled in his grip, watching Aron pull it out. “Perhaps my place could be replaced by you… George is a brute, and I think I can distract myself with you around. Maybe that was Dylan’s intention all along.”

But Dylan seemed so nice and warm… Danny said nothing though, instead deciding to look straight down. “Please…”  
“We’ll find out later.” Aron growled, pulling Danny to lie down. He was no fighter. All he could do is turn his head away.

+=+=+=+=+=+

Despite his attitude, Jordon was frail.

It took 2 hits to the face to knock him down, covering his head while Jorel kicked his body. “Fucking 250… You’re the worst fucking drug dealer I know. Dylan gets 5 pounds of etorphine, only for you to come back with 3. Shit, what do I keep you around for.” One more kick, and he walks away, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

Dylan sighed, sorting out his bags of nasty drugs. “Jorel, you can't expect to sell out in only a day.”  
“Fuck off. If we can't make money, that means no food, and no weapons. Next week when I go to Glendale, you better be handing over at least 1K.”

Aron burst through the door as Jordon managed his feet, wiping the blood from his nose. His side ached, handing over an embarrassing limp as he made his way to his bedroom, quietly closing the door. “I’m great!” Aron beamed. “I’m incredible!”

“Ooh, did we make some cash today?” Jorel walked over, putting away a pack of smokes. “Well, yes, but that’s not the good news.” He continued to smile as he handed over his wad of cash. “How much?”  
“150.  I sold all of it.”  
“Shit. See, JORDON?!” He hollered over the sound of the television. “Business can be good if you stopped being a wimp. Anyways, what makes you so great?”

“Remember Dylan’s shiny new toy?”

Both Dylan and Jorel’s faces hardened. “Don't tell me he’s here.”  
“Nope. Not yet, at least. I wanted to consult with you first… I asked him if he wanted to join, and he so graciously accepted. He’s awaiting your approval.”  
“Really? Just like that?”  
“Yeah. Well, Dylan asked me to follow him earlier, so I had a little chat. Told me he would consider it. Ya know with college and shit he’s--”  
“What did you tell him? You didn't tell him who I was, right…? Or Matt…? Matt’s identity HAS to remain a secret, Aron!”

Aron sighed, and gestured for them to sit at the couch. “Alright, family gathering.” Jorel called the others, demanding they sit down. Matt was a little twitchy, picking at his fingers. George put the TV on mute, and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “Daniel?”  
“Tell us what’s going on, Aron. I want to know what you told him, what he said, if he’s gonna join, what his life is going to infect. Everything.”

“Well, I didn’t say any identities. I explained that his and Dylan’s meeting wasn’t coincidence. Dylan, I’m sure you knew bringing him here wouldn’t come without consequence. I told him that in this world, he doesn’t have to be alone… he needed a place to belong.”

Jorel snorted. “Is this like the last time, Aron? Where you just rob them from their lives and use them as some sort of slave?”  
“Okay, yes. But come on, not only could he entertain us all, but I think we can actually train him like us. A loner like him can make bank from the drugs, steal without anyone noticing or suspecting… the perfect little brainwashed criminal.”  
“No.” Jorel simply said. 

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. Because he’s already coming.” George huffed, shaking his head. Dylan was outraged. “He’s fucking MINE, Aron! If you bring him in here, he’ll be mine!”  
“You don’t even want him like me!”  
“Okay, you’re right when you said I brought him here for a reason. Yes, to join, but not like that. And maybe I do want him…”  
“We’ll share.”

“Everybody shut the fuck up… Seems like we’ll have another.”  
“Ah, fuck. Another ass to spank.” George didn’t seem too happy. “If he escapes like the last one, I aint going after him.”  
“You won't have to. I’ll make sure he doesn’t escape, George.” Jorel explain, bringing fingers to his lips as he thought a moment. “We’ll keep him here for a while. Can’t make it too miserable; I need to think about the college thing. He can’t just drop off the face of the earth, he still has a family who cares about him.”  
“Not really.” Aron shrugged. “Just his mom.”

“... Then we’ll get rid of her. Somehow. Give it a few days, and we’ll bring him over. And Aron… don’t make this end up like the last few.”  
“No. I promise I won't kill another one.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, Danny's gonna have a wonderful spring break.

Danny couldn’t take any of this shit. He had to get out of town. He had to try to get away from this shit. With spring break in 2 days, it was easy to get an excuse, and not miss that much school. Shit, how long would he even be gone? If he came back, they could find him again. He started packing a small suitcase, putting basic necessities in it. He didn’t know where he was going. Maybe one of his brothers would house him-- just say he wanted to get away from school for the 2 weeks. 

“... What?!” his mom startled him, appearing in his doorway. “Where are you going?! Are you running away again?”

She was in despair already, hands on her face and breathing heavily. Danny had to think of something, quick. He pursed his lips, staring at the floor. “I’m… going on a trip. For my spring break. I’m not leaving, I wouldn’t do that.” Danny hated that he was lying to his mother. He couldn’t stand the fact that he would be leaving her alone. He’d never do that… not to move out unless she knew she could handle it. But he practically was being forced. He needed out of town to avoid this gang. 

“You can't leave me… you can't!” she threw herself on him, squeezing him so hard. Danny hugged back, never wanting to let go. It's not like he wanted to go, he’d rather go back to being a college loser than anything, but there was no other way he could think of other than running away. Calling the police would be pointless; sure he can show them the house but they couldn’t find much.

It took a while to convince her to let him leave, claiming he was going to San Diego-- but really, he was planning on crashing on his friend Tyler’s house.

Putting the suitcase aside, he simply laid on his bed. Tomorrow was the last day of college. He contemplated not going, but otherwise his foolish lie wouldn’t play correctly. He’d leave for his brother’s house the moment that bell rang. 

By the next day, his suitcase was gone. In the kitchen, his mother was up, which was unusual at this hour. He had assumed she had gotten drunk again last night, now she was making him some sort of assorted breakfast. “I don’t want you to start your trip hungry…” She simply started saying. “You tell Tyler’s parents to look after you. And look after yourself, please.”

“You’re really okay with this?”  
“I have to be… it's just a few days. You need to have fun, too. You’re still growing up, and it's not fair for me to throw a fit to my son in college.” Danny’s heart began to wither. This may be the last time he saw her, who knows?

After her sorry looking pancakes with sausage links, Danny squeezed his mother goodbye. It was more heartbreaking for him than her, but that was just a guess. Who knows how she would survive without him.

When school was over, he raced to his car, wanting to move with the traffic this time to avoid anyone. For now, he would stay at his brother’s house. It had only been two days, and so far, nothing was out of the ordinary, completely devoid of gang sightings. But he didn’t want to post victory so prematurely. 

Mysterious noises kept waking Danny up in the middle of the night. Sure, sleeping over at a foreign place was a toll on the brain, but it was stranger than that. He couldn’t get himself to stay awake for more than 30 minutes at a time. There was a time when he was certain something had changed in the room; like it was colder.

No, it was colder. It was the fourth night when He noticed the window was ajar, the curtains swaying with the breeze. He sat up, scratching his head a little. “What the fuck--”   
Abruptly, a hand clasped over his mouth, and a blade caught under his throat. “You thought you could fucking run… “ 

Dylan…

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

The Ragan Mansion. 

George inhaled the familiarity of his former childhood home. “Smells like dad’s cigars.” he inputted, looking at the pictures on the wall.   
“Must be nice… Growing up in a rich family.” Jorel sighed, enjoying the Victorian style roof, glossy wood stairs, and shiny chandelier. They headed upstairs quietly, finding George’s old bedroom.  
“Hey, we weren’t that rich, dude. Luxurious two story house isn’t compared to Bill Gates.”  
“My parents didn't even bother providing.”  
“Well, neither did mine. My father was always buried in his work. My mom drank herself into oblivion before her suicide and, well…” He sighed a moment, looking the Italian in the eye. “You could’ve made your family a good one.”

Jorel was quiet a moment, stepping up to George and only blinking. “They deserved to die…” He simply said, and sat on the bed. “Causing that fire was the best thing I ever did… hearing their screams was like music to my ears.” He laughed, amused. He took his shoes off, kicking them elsewhere.

“Who cares, anyways? I found you… Now, if you don't mind, George, can we just do what we came here to do?” 

George’s father was mostly known for writing masterpiece novels. An author at the shell, being in the mafia for several years, their home furnishing hundreds of pounds of drugs, guns, even a few other members. George and his father rarely got along, but it was almost like they were connected somehow. Jorel and George would secretly hit the home on a regular basis when the man was out of the house, taking money, ammunition, documents, and even food, just for shits and giggles. Being home alone with a king sized bed, though…

“Where the fuck is it?!” Jorel was tearing Mr. Ragan’s desk apart, much to George’s cringe. “Jorel… quit! When he comes back to a shit stained desk, he’ll know we were here.”  
“Shit, then! He should fucking have it!”  
“Chill! I’m fucking serious, stop that! This is why you even wanted Danny, he’s gonna hand it over to us. Don't depend on my father to make it suddenly appear like some sort of fucking magician. When Danny comes, we drop the mission on him, and he’ll get that document for us.”  
“They’re coming in just a few months, though! I know I wanted him but… fuck!” Jorel hissed at himself, rubbing his temples.

“The only reason I am allowing Danny to even come close to joining our group is so he can break into the University and get that document. He’s not staying long, sure, but I don’t want to worry about waiting to get it, or even the boys being around a newbie. Aron fuckin killed Jimmy because he was bored with his toy.”

“Then stop your bitching and fight your way through this. When have you ever failed as a leader?”  
“Several, but never myself.” Jorel grinned, shaking his head. “I’ll leave Daniel in the hands of Dylan. He’ll stay in the basement until we need him. Then, we toss him.”  
“One problem though, Big Shot. Tonight, as Dylan and Matt ride to San Diego to find him, the schools will officially shut down for spring break.”

Jorel fell silent a moment; George could practically hear the gears twist inside his mind. “What?!”  
“It didn’t occur to you that you that ya tracked him down to Rigo Murillo’s home to be captured during spring break? Weather he was running away or spending his two weeks with family, you’re looking at keeping him another 10 days or so. In other words… Danny’s gonna have to just live with us during that duration… and you wondered why I thought it was a terrible idea.” 

That last remark earned George a hateful blow to his head. He tumbled, but caught himself on the chair. “Ow… I’m just saying… the professor we’re looking for won’t even be at the school, they’ll be vacationing themselves.”

“FUCK!” Jorel kicked the chair the latter had been balancing himself on, hitting his knee with it. “Fucking Dylan. Fucking bringing fuckboys over! I know I wanted him to find a fucking loser college kid but FUCK!”

“Hey! I said chill! We’re not gonna run out of time!”  
“You fucking heard what those bastards said! They were gonna--”  
“Don’t fucking remind me! I don’t wanna die either… If anything, we have here, my home. Just drop the document for now. We have the money, let’s just leave.”

“No… I may be pissed off, but I won't dismiss our tradition because of it. I’ll think of what to do with Daniel later… An opportunity like this won’t come until next month. Now, please, your leader would like to be serviced.”

Jorel pulled George to the king sized bed. The bed he would lay restlessly in every night of his childhood, sometimes retreating under the bed or hiding beneath the covers when mob fights occurred. He will always remember the night he woke up to his brother Connor shaking him awake, wailing that their mother had jumped to her death over the stairwell balcony. Fuck every single memory.

 

George grinned. “You’re one evil bastard, you know that?” stood between Jorel’s legs, pinching his chin then kissing his lips. “Too bad the boys can’t see you like this. Here, I’m the boss.”

“Ooh, yes, master.” Jorel snickered, pulling George’s belt off, then retreated back on the comfortable king size bed. George removed his shirt, crawling over and grabbing Jorel by his dark locks, He kissed at the exposed skin, biting into it with complete disregard for the other. Jorel’s hands explored older man's back, leaving angry red marks in his path.

"You always know how to take care of me." He muttered breathlessly, biting back a whine when George’s teeth found his bare neck, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “Don’t you start getting romantic on me, now.” George huffed, tightening the grip he had on the back of Jorel’s neck. He brought them just a bit closer, rubbing their hard ons together. “Besides, we only have this one night before my father returns home…”  
“Then fuck me before I change my mind.” 

“Bastard. Take that shit off.” George let up a bit, allowing Jorel to remove his shirt. Tiny bruises and a small knife wound on his stomach that George found quite sexy. He soon had him completely stripped down as well as himself, teasing the man beneath him with a single finger.

“You’re a… piece of shit.” Jorel growled, rocking his hips into George’s hand. He hissed when he finally pushed in, desperately mewling for any other contact as he was scissored. Jorel fought back his deep moans, already becoming hard while he kneaded his hands into George’s shoulder blades. “Just fuck me already!” he demanded with a hoarse voice.

“Oh, Jorel. So impatient with everything. ‘I need cocaine now, I need 1k now, I need Armagnac now..’ what a short temper.”  
“I swear to fucking god, George…” He drew his hand back to slap George, but he quickly caught his wrist, twisting it and making him cry out. “If I can make Aron cry like a bitch from beating his ass, I can do it to you…”  
“Just like I can command you to do that, I can command you to fuck me until I can see stars.” George let go, amused, starting to line up so slowly, Jorel pulled his ass closer, pushing it in himself. “Fuck…”

 

George was quick to pick up a brutal pace, folding Jorel slightly as he lifted the older man's legs to rest on his shoulders, pounding into his prostate shamelessly. Jorel cursed loudly; never being quiet during sex, a reason why they never did it at the house. Their teeth scraping skin and lips alike, hands yanking on fistfuls of hair as hard as they possibly could, taking any opportunity to force the other to cry out. The sound of skin smacking against skin filled the air, along with their loud cries and moans.

Jorel’s head flew back once George hit orgasm, and he pulled out, yanking Jorel out of bed quickly, and shoved him forward against the wall, locking lips again. George reached down to coax Jorel’s dick until deciding to finally go down on him. It only took moments for his skilled mouth to make Jorel cum for the second time during the heavy intercourse, and they fell to the ground. 

+=+=+=+=+=+

 

_Went back home to home. Thanks for everything._

Danny’s handwriting looked shakier than normal when he had written that fake ass note for his brother to find in the morning. The events that followed were horrible: being lead out to the trunk of Dylan’s car. The 2 hour drive from San Diego to Los Angeles was a nightmare. He hit his head on many hard things, his body trembled with fear.

Matt was the first to seize Danny, pulling him out of the trunk and dragging him  by his hands to the door and up the concrete steps, finally down the hallway. He lay with blurred vision, watching Dylan move a rug revealing an eerie looking hatch. Behind him, Aron peeked out of a room, the noise attracting Danny to look

Behind the man, he saw a drum set, and a cot. Aron refused to sleep in the same bed as Matt… couldn’t blame him. Matt’s eyes were cool, blue pools.. Dull irises that coldy stared at the boy like he was about to pull a knife on him. “Get it.” Dylan’s voice tore him from staring. “What?!” 

The hatch was a hole, looking like it could fit maybe 3 people. “I said get in.”  
“Fuck you! I’m not going in there…” Danny jumped, feeling Matt’s strong hands grab his arms, restraining him. “Don’t make this difficult…” He pushed him towards it, and he was not alone down there. A body lay, cold and stiff, with wide open eyes, and a huge wound on his head. He looked… fresh. Like he had died just yesterday… even today. 

“THERE’S A DEAD MAN IN THERE!” Danny wailed, kicking a little, though fighting was pointless. “No! There’s a dead body! No!” Both Dylan and Matt forced him down the hole. Matt threw 3 bottles of water and a few granola bars down there. He smiled, holding the hatch. “Don’t worry, he’s a great conversationalist…” and with that, the hatch was closed. Pitch dark, with a degrading dead man in a tiny crawl space.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter. Rape/torture, be warned.  
> Also, sorry for late update, work is kicking my ass, and I did my taxes. Look at me adulting. Anyways, enjoy! ;w;

“Where is he?”  
“Crawlspace.”  
“Did you bother getting rid of… uh, whoever that was?”  
“Ask Matt; that’s his job, not mine.”

Jorel scoffed, gesturing for the others to gather. “Well, your job is about to be hell… Everybody sit! Matt, you too. No, we’ll get him later.” George and Jordon sorted through the duffle bag, separating cash, drugs, ammunition into sloppy piles on the table. George was disinterested, already having an idea on what the leader had to say.  
“So. Our little visit from our cute captive will have to be a bit expanded,” he began, opening a closet door. Dylan grew quiet a moment, eyes shifting and examining any hint of change in George’s eyes. “How long, exactly?”  
“Well, the original 3 day plan is over. I hadn’t realized the schools are going to be shut down, for spring break. I doubt our professor is going to be clocked in or available during the next two weeks. So… we’ll have to hang onto him until then.”

Dylan was outraged. “What?! You said you wanted me to get an outcasted college boy for a few days, there you go! What are we supposed to do with him until then?”  
“I’m leaving that up to you, Dylan. If you never brought him here… we could’ve waited to grab him. So, you’re ultimately responsible for him. I don’t care what you do; I’m thinking he could even shadow you on drug runs. But, we’ll have to wait. Stay low.”

“You’re just gonna make me babysit this kid?”  
“That is correct. Don’t worry, though, it's minimal effort. Keep him downstairs, or in your room, not the hatch. Keeping him alive is all I ask. When the day comes, we’ll decide to release or kill. Now, get out of my face.” 

Dylan only snarled back, heated at the other’s ugly smirks. Why the fuck was he the one to babysit? He was only doing what he was asked. “Matt, get rid of that body before it starts to fucking smell. I’m taking Danny downstairs.”

Matt was sickeningly scary to Danny. Far worse than anyone else so far. He had finished the last of his water when the hatch was opened, right after the muffled argument someone had in the living room. Matt simply gave him a chilling laugh, pulling the decomposing body from the hole. “I hope you bonded quite well… Wasn’t so bad, eh?”  
Fucking finally, Danny quickly hopped out, Dylan grabbing his neck and pulling him further down the hall. Jorel’s room. The man looked satanic-- weapons mounted the walls, heaps of animal fur hung like tapestries, the walls were a deep maroon color, his bed a mess like a wild animal killed something on it. Danny only had a moment to glimpse at the mess consisting of bottles, wrappers, and clothes on the floor, several holes in the wall, and handcuffs draped on the iron bars of the bed. The creepiest part was the animal cage in the corner. 

The moment the door was closed, Dylan swung Danny around, slamming him against the wall, his feet disappeared from the ground. “You’re gonna fucking do what I say, alright? No fucking way I’m gonna let you get away with anything… got it?”

Danny could only meekly nod, hands on Dylan’s wrists as he held him up. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna stay down in the basement where you won't bother anybody, and if you’re a good boy, I’ll look the other way. For now, you’ll stay hidden away. I’ll tell you later what our intentions for you are. Got it?” Again, he could only nod in understandment. “Alright, good… I know Aron’s already got your pussy checked. Says you’re healthy down there, right?”

 

“Please, don’t let him… he’s already gotten me once, I don't want to be… his sex doll!”  
“Oh, come on. You’re not gonna be his sex doll, even if you are staying for only a few weeks… You’re gonna be _mine_.” Dylan growled, dragging him towards the basement door. Danny struggled keeping up with Dylan, stumbling down the stairs. The floor of the basement had clothes scattered everywhere on the floor. Dylan threw him on the ground, already removing his belt, sliding it off. 

“Please, don’t!” Danny started to get to his feet, only receiving a lash across his face, courtesy of the belt. The metal slashed a cut on his cheek that made him wail and fall back to the ground. “You’re under my wing for the next two weeks… You seem like a wiley one.” The latter felt rubbery cords or other material being wrapped around his hands behind his back. He tried not to cry but dammit he couldn’t help it.

“I haven’t gotten laid in several months and, to be honest, “Dylan , hot breath against Danny’s ear, “you’re one of the cutest fucking things I’ve ever come across.” he was chuckling a little, biting Danny’s earlobe. He could only fear the worst as he felt Dylan’s hands dip into the waistband of his jeans, yanking them down to his ankles. The force of the missionary position burned the wire into his wrists from behind his back, the only comfort being the dirty cloth from who knows where. 

All he could do was hope it would be over soon. When Aron had his experience, it was quick and brutal: the position he was in was destructive in many places, including banging his head against the wall nearly every time Aron would pound into him. He just prayed Dylan was a little more merciful. 

Shutting his eyes for a few moments, his ears observed the sound of Dylan grunting, zipping down his pants and spreading his legs apart. When Danny at last opened them, Dylan’s face deprived of any emotion. “What’s with the tears?” Dylan wiped the tear with his thumb before sliding it behind his neck. “Stop. Crying. I don’t like my lovers full of sorrow.” He grinned quite mischievously, sliding himself in. 

It was lubricated-- probably from spit. Nevertheless, Danny was silently admitting to himself how grateful that one action made him. To his surprise, Dylan wasn’t agonizingly vicious with his movements, like he was having a half-ass attempt to enjoy himself. It seemed akin to hours for the victim, but when it was finally over, the latter pulled his pants up, forcing him on his stomach. “What’re….”

“Can't let the fish off the hook…” Dylan huffed, moving around the room towards a large chest, something you’d see pirates gain treasure from. But this was no fantasyland. He pulled out a long orange extension cord, dragging it across the mountain of clothes over to his shiney toy. Danny’s hands joined his ankles, hogtied with no possible way of escape.

The majority of the length was wrapped around Danny, Dylan being mindful about keeping ¾ free inside a loop “Now, I’m off to make profit for the master.” Dylan started rambling, tightening the cord then hoisting it around the ceiling’s metal pipes. Before he knew it, Danny was being raised off the ground. He wrenched all his insides; the cord digging into any bare skin. 

Danny only squealed, and finally began to plead once more. “Oww… please! You can't leave me like this!”  
“Damn, you’re right…” Dylan searched around, pulling out drawers until he found himself a ball gag, eyes glistened with glee as he wrapped it around Danny’s head, stuffing it in his mouth. “Ah… good boy. Hope you hang around.” He snickered, shaking his head. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll show you something nice, alright? Try not to stay up too late, okay?”  
And with that, Dylan left behind his hogtied toy to swing in the basement. 

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Two days.

Or maybe more. Less? He couldn’t tell. Well, let’s see…

When Dylan left, it was dark. Dark for a while-- makes sense, if he was taken around 2PM, it's possible he was kept in that hole for a few hours, and by the time he was… Dylan left when it was getting dark. Sleep was not possible, even thinkable. The day passed and there wasn’t much noise coming from upstairs. Footsteps, the occasional conversation. Matt’s drums were a bit torturous, but Danny could attempt to find comfort in them. Being a guitar player, he imagined himself playing Rock and Roll on stage to the sound of those heavy drums.

Again, it turned dark. Danny wet himself for the second time, growling at himself for the discomfort. His wet jeans rubbed against the inside of his thighs, the cord softly swung him in circles. Danny would count objects in the room-- 12 drawers, 2 chests, 3 chains on the floor… so it appeared. 

Apart from the constant ache of his body, especially his shoulders and ribs that burned with pain, Danny was unbelievably hungry. Last thing he had eaten was what his other had given him. He didn’t even eat all if it. He missed her so much…

It was almost dark again when the basement door creaked open. Danny couldn’t see at first, being turned away. His heart raced as he heard the footsteps travel down the creaking, old stairs, followed by a breathy “Jesus Christ…” 

No, it wasn’t Dylan. Or Aron. Shit, it didn’t even sound like Jorel. He hoped it wasn’t, and he was just delirious. The figure only appeared when he was turned towards him: It was the baby faced man, Jordon, a concern look on his face. “Fuck… What the fuck…” He whispered, shaking his head. Danny pleaded with his eyes, suddenly spotting… was that food?!

His eyes widened at the sight, his stomach promptly growled at the bowl of what looked like mashed potatoes. When Jordon reached to touch his face, he winced. “You’re fine… I’m not gonna hurt you. Just don’t say anything, alright?” He looked behind his shoulder, nervous, then unhooked Danny’s ball gag. 

Danny didn’t even realize how fucking sore his jaw was. He salvated, mewling at the release. “P-please… get me down…” Jordon shook his head, saddened. “Sorry… I can’t, as much as I want to. But when Dylan comes back in two hours and sees you’re down, we’re both fucking dead as a doornail.” He sighed,  pinching the spoon with hesitation. “I just figured I’d at least give you something to eat. Not much, but. Fuck, you must be hungry, right? 

“I’m sore… so sore…”  
“If I have time, I’ll get you Tylenol, alright?” He raised the spoon, feeding the eager man. Danny had never tasted such amazing mashed potatoes in his life, not even the family recipe could compare to this… box shit. Bite after bite, Danny devoured the entire bowl, unsatisfied but a bit happier. “When Dylan gets here, just tell him you want to start raiding the streets, alright? He’ll probably let you down.”

Danny gave him a confused look, so he explained further. “Tell him you will do drug runs with him. You’ll get out of this fuck hole… well, at least down from there, and  you'll be able to walk the streets with him. He’ll probably tell you about the professor, then. Shit, the only reason you’re here.”

“I don’t… understand. Professor?”

Jordon sighed, setting the bowl down. “Dylan and Aron had the task of searching for a lonely college kid, like yourself, who would have access to campuses around the LA and San Diego areas. Thing is, when you came here, we thought you already knew. That’s why Jorel asked if you were going to join, and get in on it. Dylan was supposed to explain that to you before he brought you, or anyone else here. But god dammit, now that you’ve raised Jorel’s suspicion, they were ordered to retrieve you immediately, convince you to find the professor, but we didn’t realize the schools would be shut down until spring break was over. That’s the only reason Dylan’s able to do whatever he wants with you. A fucking sickened man, I must say.”

“Will they let me go?” It hurt to even speak, but Danny could find answers, anything could lead to an escape. Even convincing Jordon to unlock that door for him. “I don’t know… To be honest, they’ll probably just keep you, if you prove useful enough. You see, we’ve tried this before. But the kid…” Jordon sighed again. “Didn’t work out. He backed out last minute, threatened to alert authorities. The man in the hatch was the kid, Daren. Matt tortured him for weeks until he threw him down there after he strangled him.”

Danny winced. If he did this ‘job’ correctly, they may try to convert him. But, there was a slender window for escape. Good to know. Jordon left quickly after the conversation, Danny didn’t even realize he left the gag off, and even forgot the bowl. It was around 40 minutes when Dylan came down, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw the missing item, replaced with an empty bowl. Before even reaching the bottom of the steps, he raced back up. “JORDON!”

There was yelling. A lot of it. Most of it muffled, of course. Dylan came back down with the argument fading away. “Did you eat?!” He yelled. Unsatisfied with Danny’s hesitancy, he got closer, gripping his hair and screaming it again in his ear. “Y-yes! He just spoon fed me…” he could feel drool slither from his mouth. “Oh, how nice.” Dylan growled. Danny watched him release the clamp, and he fell to the ground with a loud thud. When he was released from this prison of cords, he traced his fingers across the burns it left behind, remembering what Jordon told him.

“Dylan… When am I gonna… learn the route?”  
“Route?”  
“Drug route. Wasn’t I going to shadow you? Learn the, uh, drug trade?”  
“What makes you think I was going to?”  
“I just… thought I might as well learn while I’m here for an extra two weeks.” 

Dylan’s eyes shifted towards a distant place, like he was deep in thought. He simply shrugged, pulling Danny up, though he couldn’t stand. “I’ll have a talk with Jorel, alright? Wouldn’t hurt. Fuck, get up!”

“I… I can't!” The experience left him in unbelievable pain, leaving his legs like jello. He was brought up to Dylan’s room, and he laid in his bed, relieved that even the shittiet spring mattress could bring him such comfort. His bag laid in the corner. “Uh.. is that mine?”  
“Huh? Oh, yeah. We figured if you were here awhile, you need it. We already searched it.” Danny was about to ask why, but decided it was best not to. He carefully sifted through his clothes, pulling out a fresh outfit. When his jeans unfolded in his hands, a picture flew out. 

He couldn’t remember packing any pictures… only 3 outfits, and basic necessities like toothbrush, comb, deodorant. With trembling fingers, he picked it up. It was a pictrue of his mother, and him and his brothers. A family portrait. A sticky note attached wrote: _”you’ll always be my baby boy. Love, mommy.”_

Danny unwillingly began to cry. His mother packed this picture and note for him, thinking he was going away for a trip. It made him think about what she was doing or thinking now: He hadn’t called or updated himself on her, she was probably panicking… maybe even calling police, reporting her baby going missing. 

“You’re not even dressed yet?” Jorel stood in the doorway. As handsome as he was, he scared the shit out of Danny. “Crying? Come on, be happy. You’re going out tonight.”  
“I just… I miss my mom.” Danny’s face churred with raw, sad emotions. Jorel sighed, squatting down. “Listen. If I get a good report tonight, I’ll treat ya to a good meal. Let you sleep in bed with me. Sounds good, eh?” Danny didn’t want to sleep with HIM. He’d rather be chained again. All he did was nod, and quickly got changed.

Matt had been out for a bit. After finding out Jordon’s little assistance on their guest, Jorel had sent him out to find another victim. Dylan, Aron, and Danny headed out for the streets. 

An hour after they had left, Jorel lead Jordon out to the back where Matt and his truck parked. “I fucking told you… I don’t think Danny deserved that. He at least needed food, especially if we’re planning this heist, Jorel.”  
“Don’t do that shit without permission, Jordon.”  
“You have my respect, Jorel….”  
“It is not enough.” with a snap, George and Matt opened the back seat of the truck, pulling out a man with a bag over his head, hands tied behind his back. Jordon swallowed at the sight.

“You said you wanted to leave, but that is not possible. The only way out of this gang is death, you know that. You must take the rest of my ‘respect’ for you. Prove you’re still one of us, or you’re out.”

Jordon was handed a metal bat, and everyone stepped away for the show. “Come on, Jordon. The Undead are ruthless, merciless. We converted you to obey and kill. If that’s so hard to follow, then you’re fucking joining them. Do it.” Jordon took a deep breath, raising the metal bat and slamming it over, and over again on the stranger’s back.

The man cried and pleaded, soon fading his screams away as he weakened. Jordon was exhausted; blood splattered his hands and face. “There… is that fucking enough for you?”

“Never… Kill him.” Jorel ordered with a grin even the devil would flee upon looking at. “Death for him, or for yourself. I hope you make the right choice… Ten, nine, eight…” Jordon clawed at his face, looking down at this man he didn’t even know. No age, no occupation, no identity. Just a person. Yeah… just a person. “Four, three, two…” Jordon raised that bat again, delivering a final blow to this man’s head. Blood splattered the ground, and the body turned motionless. “Well done. You may go, now.” Jorel began to walk back inside, ignoring Jordon’s hushed cries.

“I’m hungry.” Jorel sighed, opening the fridge door. “Maybe I should text them to bring something back, eh? What do you think of--” George hushed him looking out the window. “They’re back.”

“Fuck, already? I wanted food.” he looked at his phone for the time. “It’s only been an hour… they better have had unbelievable sales.” Aron suddenly raced through the door in a panicked frenzy. “Danny got away!”

Jorel’s face turned to stone. “WHAT?!” He pushed past Aron, looking  in the car outside. “How the fuck?!”  
“He just… ran off! We were in a group like you said. He was acting so good until he just walked away! Dylan chased after him, I came to retrieve you guys.”  
“Son of a bitch! He knows where the house is! Fucking search everywhere! I want him fucking found!” Aron got back in his car, George and Jorel in the other. The hunt was on.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Danny had never ran as fast or as long in his entire life. 

His endurance as incredible. He raced past people, dodged trash cans, jumped barrels. Dylan was hot on his tail, yelling at him to come back but he kept going. His head demanded it, although his heart was not agreeing. 

One stumble was all it took, and Dylan quickly tackled him to the ground. “HELP! Please, somebody!” Who was he kidding, this was the ghetto! Who would hear, or even bother to help? Dylan clenched his hands behind his back so hard Danny was convinced they would snap off. He jerked him like a dog, digging his knee into his back. 

“The fuckig hogtie was nothing, my friend. When we get back to the house, you’ll be praying to meet death right at his fucking door… The punishment will make even Matt blush with envy. Jorel can't fucking stop me!”

“Yes I fucking can.” Dylan looked up with rage in his eyes. Even the sight of his boss couldn’t distract him. George started to dash towards him. “NO! He’s mine! He fucking tried to run! He thought he could fucking get away!”

“Yeah, we know. I’m positive we’ll get it handled, Dylan. I already have plans for this hopeful fuck…” George spat, helping pull Danny up. “You really fucking stepped in it now, huh? Let’s fucking go.”

Danny shouldn't have run. He should’ve stayed right by Dylan’s side. He should’ve been patient with his escape, or maybe just more clever. The moment he got home, it was in the basement first. George and Dylan stripped him down, filing a tub with scorching hot water. The two teamed to drag the defenseless man to the edge, hoisting his head up by the throat and slashing his head down into the hellish water. Danny screamed underwater at the pain, kicking and throwing palms. They dipped his head about four more times, tossing him back.

“To Jorel’s?” George snickered, circling Danny like prey. “Nah.” Dylan waved him off. “We got a couple minutes… This fucker is ours…” Danny felt heavy boots and metal bars bruise his body, covering his head against the beatings. Noise became more and more distant as the duo hit him, giggling in satisfaction. Danny’s ribs were bruised, he popped a knee joint, and something in his spine felt like it cracked, and before he knew it, he was bent over in Jorel’s bedroom, now understanding what the handcuffs were for. 

With his back turned, Jorel dismissed the two, locking his door, and the lecture began. “You broken little boy… I told you to act like a good boy. Being in my room is fun unless it’s to be punished, and, I really didn’t want to go down this road with you.”

Jorel massaged the cattail whip in his hands with an evil smirk. “One way or another, you will learn.” Danny yelped at every slash he received. He counted 21. He could feel the blood turn cold from the air, dripping like raindrops down his back and onto the bed. It trailed from behind his shoulder blades all the way down to his ass cheeks. He remembered the rain in his eyes, and darkness as he passed out, cringing at Jorel’s diabolical laughter deep in the background.

“Danny… wake up, sleepyhead…” fingertips tiptoed a path up his naked thigh, sneaking through the underside of his boxers. “Come on, sweetheart. I’m not mad at you anymore, get up.” 

Danny’s eyes flashed, yet he couldn’t see a thing. Hands caressed his body, yanking him up against the occupant. “Morning, beautiful…” Dylan whispered, pinching his nose while rubbing a cold circle onto his back. “Aw, don’t cry... everything’s gonna be okay, now.” Tears stung against the blindfold, cold metal tore through his wrists, and he couldn’t help but beg for his life once more. “Please… just let me go… I wanna go home…”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's mission time, guys. But there's more problems arising. Poor little Danny can't handle this shit.

George Arthur Ragan, later changing his name to ‘Johnny’ towards unknown peers. Born into a family with a drug induced mother and famous author, who happened to be in the mob, the lack of attention, suicide of his mother, and being around the mafia lead him to anger problems and violent tendencies. According to Jorel, he’s robbed several houses, a gas station, blown up cars, and walked away from countless fights. Aron Erlichman molested so many people, men and women alike. He traded drugs and has been in jail for grand theft auto. He’s always away… nobody really questioned it, though. Just business?

Dylan Peter Alvarez. Danny’s captor. Well, he’s been a bit more environmentally friendly since the little incident they had. Dylan was the mastermind drug dealer, and we aren’t just talking in sales. He’s stolen over 40 different types of drugs, using the kitchen as his meth lab to combine nasty ass shit. WET and Mary Jane were his specialties. One night is all it takes for him to make hundreds of dollars. Danny started to admire his stamina… Going along with him on these runs was educating, that’s for sure.

Matthew Alexis Busek. There was good reason Danny feared him above all, even more than Jorel, perhaps. During the course of a week, there were three disappearances, and a family murdered. A few weeks later, all three were found dead. Months later, two more murders, their bodies too beaten, charred, and bloodied to be identified. In other words, Danny lived under the same roof as a mass murderer. Matt loved harming people, explaining he found it strangely comforting, finding pleasure inside the pain and suffering of others. Jorel enjoyed it for the pure reason of he can kidnap and torture anyone he wanted.

Jorel Decker. The leader. Years ago, the Decker residence was mysteriously burned to the ground with all occupants inside, with only one surviving. You can guess who that was. Nobody knew who or what started the fire, though they speculated it as a gas leak. What’s more strange was the father and mother of the family’s throats and eyes gouged out. Jorel was sent to an asylum for a few months to recover from psychiatric problems, and after being released, went on a rampage of heists, drug runs, and running into misfits like himself, eventually joining them together and claiming himself as leader to this gang known as The Undead. For over a month he had been attempting to track an unknown rivalry gang they didn't even know the leader of. Jorel collected weapons and money, saying he had some sort of plan when they finally got that document. 

Danny didn't completely understand the document. Jorel explained it only as ‘our window of opportunity to expose the rivals and to get the fuck out of Dodge.’ Jorel had expectations of a near flawless getaway after they were to succeed in this mission. Yes… if. A big ‘what if’ was what drew death’s chalk line between freedom and a final breath for Danny. He had quickly made a decision to not run, or even try to defy this gang.

Shortly after the incident, despite much difficulty, Danny ceased to hurt. Much. The lashes on his back would be there for weeks, if not months. He anticipated daily beatings, but alas that was proven wrong. He wasn’t allowed off the property, and there was always someone, usually Matt since he never left during the daytime, on the premises to babysit him. Danny mostly watched rerun DVDs and movies, wrote in his notebook about his experiences and thoughts, or ran laps around the small house, just to entertain himself. 

It was only three days before the official mission. Jorel had laid the mission down as a heist, but to Danny it was a secret spy mission. Danny would visit the administer, requesting the professor they needed, he and Aron would go inside the office, distract him, then Danny would grab the paper. “It should be in a safe. When you give a signal, we’ll come in and retrieve you.” Jorel explained, but so little that Danny was still downright confused.

“So… I go in, one of you distracts, then I just grab it in the safe?”  
“Yeah. Simple, right?”  
“Sure, but… how are you going to distract him?”  
“Let us handle it, alright? Your only job is to get the paper, stay the fuck out of our way, then run when we tell you to. We’re hoping for a sneak attack, and they won’t even know it's gone.”

The college they went to ended up being a larger university, not the LA Academy of Music where Danny attended. His concern was getting lost and not being able to find the professor. Nearly everyone was walking around separated, keeping an eye on the fellow students, but mostly Danny, in case he were to run again. Dylan followed exactly two car lengths behind Danny as he wandered into the hallway, finding the correct number. The classroom was huge, and he forgot for a moment why he was there.

“Who are you?” The professor asked from his office door. “Uh… I was touring the campus, and might be taking this class… Can I speak to you in your office?”  
“Oh. Of course… right in here, please.” Danny swallowed, glancing at Dylan waiting in the doorway, hands in his pockets as he stayed in the shadows.

Danny instantly recognized the mistake of not even knowing what the fuck this professor even taught, so what phony questions would he even have to ask? “Uh… what exactly is this class? Like, curriculum?”

“Well, psychology is a wonderful field of study. We learn about the earliest of developmental psychology, dating back to ideas from Sigmund Freud, Jean Piaget, Konrad…” Everything was becoming distant as Danny searched his office, trying to find a safe but there wasn’t any in plain sight. Maybe behind the picture, like in the movies? No, that’s dumb. Wait, shit, the professor asked a question but he didn’t hear it. Something about him being a new kid.

“Um… I’m gonna be transferring. I’m from uh… Bloomington.” The look the professor gave made it obvious that wasn’t at all what he asked. Fuck, Dylan just make the distraction already! 

As if by telepathy, the professor's eyes dashed towards the office door, quickly getting up. “Be right back…” He excused himself, closing the door behind him. Danny assumed that was his queue, and raced to find any sort of safe, or secret compartment, coming up empty. He sifted through a couple files. Jorel had shown him a paper that was similar to what it was supposed to look like, seeing nothing that could match. He had to fucking find it, or it was his life.

Like magic, he came across an orange envelope, with… with Jorel’s last name on it, ‘Decker’ and something scribbled out. He peeked inside, and, that had to be it! A red tape, just like he said there would be. He had to get out, quickly. Dylan’s distraction couldn’t last forever. 

Upon his exit, Danny froze. The professor… he was on the ground, Dylan’s foot holding him down on his stomach. “Dylan!” He whisper yelled, distraught by the sight. “He’s unconscious, chill. Is that it?”

“Pretty sure, let’s go!” Danny and Dylan both jumped at a woman’s scream, turning to see a student begin to open the door, seeing the sight and running away. “FUCK! We have to get going…” Dylan grabbed his arm, then trying the door. Locked?! 

“Shit… what?! It couldn't have locked by itself! Shit, it won't even turn!” Dylan looked around frantically for a way out, and suddenly, the fire alarm went off. The noise pierced Danny’s ears, clenching onto Dylan as a reaction like a frightened child. “Don’t panic! Come on, get inside the office!” Dylan pushed him to run, and once inside the office, he went straight towards the window. 

“Dylan! This is a two story building! There’s no fucking way--”

“You really think Jorel wouldn’t have this window monitored just in case shit like this was pulled? George is waiting for us.”

“Doesn’t matter! Still two stories! Our legs are gonna break!” Danny jumped, he could hear the door being pounded on and he started to panic. “Dylan!”

The Hispanic stood in the window, one foot up as if he was about to leap to his own death. He looked back with sicere eyes. “Danny… I’m a dick, I know. But I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. To us.” he reached out a hand, urging him to take it. “Come on, Danny. It’s gonna be fine. I’ll go first, and I’ll try to catch you, okay? I promise, I won’t let you fall.” 

Danny was conflicted, wondering for only a moment if Dylan was serious. His face was genuine, with not a hint of banter or foolish game. He even wondered if he allowed Dylan to go first, he could turn around and surrender himself, giving himself up with the chance to be rescued. Telepathy must be a real thing, because Dylan’s eyebrows started to knit.

“Danny… i think I know what you’re thinking. If you let me go, you’re just gonna run again…” Shit! Danny swallowed, now afraid, and started to walk towards him again in fear that Dylan would get angry again, but instead, he sighed, shaking his head. “If you want to stay and let yourself be caught, that’s fine. Just hand me the file, I’ll tell Jorel you resigned to the police as a regular student. You got the document, so… I guess you’d set yourself free.”

Danny was still uneasy. Was he being serious? Or was this a test. “But… what about Jorel?”  
“What about Jorel? He said he was considering your freedom, anyways. If not, I’ll take the beating, weather I tell him you ran or if I set you free myself. Hurry up though, It’s now or never. Stay, or come with me and escape.”

Danny took a look around his shoulder. The door had been opened, and he could see through the office window that several people were surrounding the professor, looking around for any suspects. As a reaction, Danny handed over the file to Dylan, exchanging small sad smiles, then watched him leap from the window and land. 

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Everyone raced to the car as quickly as possible. Aron was the first to get in, saying he left once the fire alarm was set off. “Who the fuck set it off?” Jorel asked, ready to take off as soon as the other three got inside. “I don’t fucking know! I was following Dylan like you asked. They got inside the classroom, but the door was closed.”

“Fuck. They better get here. If police find me, or even you, we’re dead.”  
“What about the file?”  
“If no one returns with it, I’ll have to find another way... “ he shook his head, rage infusing his eyes slowly. “FUCK! Just hurry up already!”

“Wait, there’s Dylan! I think he has it! He has an envelope!” Jorel grinned as he approached, and hopped in the car. “Is that it!?”  
“Yeah, I think.”  
“Think?”  
“It was what Danny grabbed, it has your name on it, it has to be!” Dylan handed it over, Jorel greedily sifting through it with a smirk. “Great… where is the little shit, anyways? And fuck, where’s George?”

Dylan was silent a moment. Aron’s confused look brought words to his mouth. “When Danny jumped, he got a little hurt. I told George to wait with him while I got the document to you.”

“Wise. Well, we’ll wait. Fuck, everyone’s evacuating.” Though the crowd, George held onto Danny, guiding him through the thousands of students as they made their way to the car. The moment George got inside, Jorel sped off.

Dylan put his arm around Danny, smiling widely. “So glad you’re alright! See, i told you I wouldn’t let you fall… well, I guess get seriously hurt? Sorry bout that.” 

Danny chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t crush you guys, did I?” 

“Danny.” Jorel interrupted. “I think this is the one, well done.” he nodded in approval. “I’m gonna read over it tonight and figure out what we can do next, alright guys? George, we’ll have to see your father again. Say, did you turn the fire alarm off? Because that was pretty smart. Although I couldn’t see why--”

“No, that wasn’t me?” George denied it, shrugging. “Dylan?”

“Wasn’t me either, or Danny-Boy. We were both in the classroom when it happened. I doubt it was Aron either, he was monitoring the hallway, right?”

“Hmm… well, whatever. Either way, it turned to our favor.” Jorel shifted gears, accelerating. “Danny, why so glum looking? You should be happy. You get to live.” It was meant to be a bit offensive, but also a subtle praise. 

“I’m just... “ Danny choked on words. To be honest, he was saddened that he had the opportunity to get out. He had Dylan’s blessing to walk away from all this, but he just didn’t. It didn’t feel right. In that moment, he felt like he would be walking away from a place that he seemed to belong. When he leapt, and fell on top of Dylan, he shared a small, but charitable moment when they giggled, quickly hissing in pain from his bent leg, but he was fine. Dylan rushed to get the document to Jorel, not wanting to keep him waiting, while George helped him up. It just… didn’t feel right.

“Just missing my mom, I guess. Being out in a college environment reminded me of home. Of her.” Jorel’s face fell, hardened, and he shifted again. “Well.” 

Once home, Dylan practically dragged Danny to their room, locking the door. Jorel started to read over the document with George and Jordon, ready to make their next move. Aron just went to his room, happy to see that Matt wasn’t there. 

Dylan threw Danny on their bed, ripping off his shoes along with his own, and flinging himself on top. “You were so good, Danny.” He nibbled along his neck and near his ear, easing him to lay down and relax a bit more. “You found it right away… The professor had only been down 30 seconds by the time you came out….” Danny could feel Dylan growing hard, rocking his hips against his that quickly became a rough dry-hump. “I’m so… so fucking proud of you.”

That statement… it was meant to be a compliment, sure. But it only saddened him. This man he had only known for maybe three weeks, who had tortured and raped him, drugged him and locked him in his room with no food, was praising his action of stealing confidential documents he didn’t even know the purpose of. What’s worse, was he was beginning to really like Dylan. Sure, he hadn’t been a very kind captor, but he showed him a kind of encouragement that no one had shown before, and Danny craved that attention, even if it was morally wrong.

He allowed his thoughts to drift away, reaching around to pull at Dylan’s shirt and softly moan at his words despite their two-sided meaning. He removed both pairs of pants, eagerly rubbing himself against Danny’s hole. Danny found himself practically begging for more contact. “Ah, Dylan please… Make love to me.”

“Want me to fuck you? Say it louder.” Danny scowled at the terminology, displeased with how he put it. “Put it in, please…!” he twisted his hands inside the folds of Dylan’s shirt, gasping loudly when he started to push in. Danny curled is back up, relaxing his muscles at last, laying his head on the pillow. Dylan wrapped his legs around his waist, giving short thrusts to tease his partner.

Danny tugged harder at his sleeves, waiting with anticipation. “F-fuck… please, hurry!”  
“Tell me you want me to fuck you.” Dylan growled.  
“I… don’t say it like that. Makes it sound like a bad thing.” Danny slapped himself internally. It _was_ a bad thing! But if he was enjoying it… “Just move, please!”  
“Say it.”  
“Dylan!”  
“SAY IT!” Dylan slapped the latter across his face, huffing as a reaction. Danny whimpered, letting go of Dylan to touch the stinging. His left eye started to water, staring up at Dylan with betrayal. “THAT is fucking me, Dylan! Not the fucking sex!”

“Don’t be such a baby. Nothing wrong with a little kink.” Dylan brushed it off like it was nothing, tugging on Danny’s legs again. Without another word, he started to move a quick but manageable pace. Danny threw his head back at the sudden action, forgetting the slap instantly. He mewled with pleasure, turning his head in different directions while Dylan continued to move, shooing his hands away whenever he attempted to touch himself. 

Dylan managed climax much quicker than his partner. When he leaned down to suck small hickeys on his neck, he instead got surprised with Danny’s eager lips against his, shoving his tongue inside to explore. Dylan kissed back even harder, Danny biting down on his bottom lip, smirking inside the kiss. It made Dylan wonder who was really in control of this session. When Danny finally came, he smiled softly in bliss, rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child. Dylan was tempted to brush his hands through his hair, but resisted. _”No… you aren’t gonna start falling for your own captive!”_

“DYLAN! DANNY!” Jorel’s voice suddenly boomed through the house. "Get the fuck in here, now!” Dylan swallowed, feeling Danny’s body begin to tremble. “Hey, don’t worry…” He rubbed his cheek with his thumb. “What’d I tell you? I won’t let you fall.” 

Once dressed, they quickly went to the living room. Jorel was standing up with the papers in front of him, hands against his hips like was trying to figure out a serious problem. And a problem there was.

“We have a problem… Maybe two. Shit, even three.”

“Alright, then… nothing Danny did, right?” Jorel’s eyes flashed towards the young singer. He looked like he was about to scream, but didn’t. Instead, he slowly shook his head. “No… not exactly. This is the right envelope he grabbed, but… it’s not right.”

“It's right  but it’s not right? I don’t get it.” Dylan and Danny sat on the couch, looking over the files. Dylan’s hands started exploring, glancing at the papers. “They’re not authentic copies, they’re rendered photocopies. Like this one, here, that’s the order, but the ink is faded at the bottom. And the red slip isn’t the right material… and there’s no…” He stopped his tongue, remembering Danny was in the room with him. “You know. The actual document we needed isn’t present.”

“So what does this all mean? How the fuck could this even happen?!”

“I don’t even know. Someone could’ve switched the files, or we got the wrong guy… but if most of the files are here, real or fake, how can it be the wrong professor?!” Jorel had annoyance and desperation in his voice. “I just don't understand…”

Danny was silently looking over the files. The papers looked like legal documents, appearances of what could’ve been tax papers, job applications, and birth certificates. But they weren’t. He didn’t know what the fuck they were. He didn’t want to ask, either. There were photographs, too. One of a fire, and one with at least a dozen copied photos of Jorel himself. Almost like mug shots. “I’m not… in trouble, am I…?” He whispered carefully, prepared to take any hits.

Jorel didn’t even glance at him. He kept staring in the distance intensely. The silence ached Danny until he at last spoke. “No… No, this isn’t your fault. You got the right file just not… the right… one…” His words didn’t make sense and everyone knew it. After some thinking, Jorel sat down, giving a small chuckle in disbelief. “I think I might have an explanation. To put simply, they were switched. But, if they were of course, it would be for a reason… Almost like they wanted to hide the original copies better. Like they were…’ 

“Expecting us?” George finished. “I see where you’re getting at, Jorel. They moved them, probably. But if someone was expecting it, who would that be?” Another silence, until George suddenly shot his eyes towards Jorel with a small gasp. “Jorel… The rival group!”

“I feared that… If they knew we were coming, they could have either scared the professor to move it, or… shit, even take it themselves! But who else would have copies like this?! I can't think of anyone else that fits this description. I’ve tracked this professor down for months and yes he had copies… so who else would hold my document?! FUCK!” Jorel flipped some of the papers off in rage. Danny was grateful it wasn’t the entire table.

After a moment, he meekly spoke up. “Uh… did you check all of the schools?”

“Fucking of course. Your school doesn’t even have a psychologist teacher! It's a music school, not a doctor’s school.”

“Well, what about the admins?” Jorel was taken back, his shoulders relaxed. “... Admins?”

“Yeah, like, administrators. We don’t have a psychologist, but we have on-campus therapists, doctors, and activities people. A psychologist doesn’t have to be a teacher, maybe this person is working elsewhere in a job.”

“No, no. They’re connected with the colleges.”

“Still, he could be in there. Check the administrator’s building.”

“... Administrator’s building? Like, on the university’s grounds? Or yours?”

“No, more like the board of directors. They’re in charge of all the schools in a certain county.” Jorel looked a little dumbfounded, sitting down again. “Board of directors…” he repeated. Then again. He pulled out his phone, and walked outside. Danny slumped a little in the couch cushion, rubbing his temples. George started smirking, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I haven’t thought about administers… you’re probably right, Danny boy.”

Jorel bursted through the door off the phone, smiling with glee. “I got him. I fucking got him! School psychologist who works in the admin building near the high school. Danny, you’re a fucking genius! A fucking saint! Fuck, I’m so glad we have you… you’re really gonna save all of us.”

“Save us? Is something wrong?”

“Eh, Kinda. I’ll explain later. But for now… you’ll have to get ready for another mission. This time, we know 100% who we’re after and what we’re going for. Tomorrow, I’ll send--” Aron suddenly ran down the hall, jumping on Jorel. “Turn on the TV! Now! Channel 7 news!”

George quickly turned on the TV, pressing the ‘7’ button on the remote to the news. The newscaster, and two pictures of young men. Everyone instantly recognized the faces.

_“Jorel Decker has been wanted for grand theft auto, illegal trading of weapons, drugs, and other illegal possessions, and is also believed to be behind a bigger case of the Decker Fire several years ago. Daniel Murillo has been reported missing for almost two weeks, and is now rumored to be residing with this dangerous man participating in criminal work. Murillo is suspected to breaking and entering as well as attempted murder on the University’s psychology professor. If anyone has any information--”_

“There’s a fucking hit on Danny! Not just by the police, but by the rivals!” Aron half-shouted, looking down at the confused and shivering Danny. “They want him fucking dead for getting that document before them, you know that.”

“And now with Danny seemingly a registered criminal, the whole city of LA will be looking for him.” Jorel sighed.

“I didn't do anything wrong!” Danny pleaded, though it was useless. I stole, yes, but I never hurt him! Everyone thinks I’m a felon, now?! My life is ruined!”

“Dan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen… Shit, you now I can't let you go. The police will be searching everywhere. The rivals will be, too. If you’re at your house, they’ll find you and kill you.”

Danny froze. “My house…” They know where I live?”

“Probably. If we can find out, so can any other gang.”

“I… I need to go home!”

“You can't go home. That’s the first place they’re gonna look for you, gang or police. You’re staying here where it's safe.”

“Safe?! My mother is there! What if… what if they go there and kill her?!”

Jorel bit his ilp. “Shit… I didn’t think about that…” He rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment. “I don't… want your mother to be wrongfully killed…”  
“And I don't want her thinking her son is a criminal, either! I… Shit, I can't explain this without turning myself in… How can I even face her…?”

“Listen. If you want to see her sometime, I’ll let you when things calm down a little, alright? For now, you can write her a note. I want you to explain yourself, but in a suitable manor. Tell her you’ve been away, and were wrongfully accused of this, but insist you’re innocent.”

“I… How?!”

“I’ll help you write it. Admit you were influenced and pushed to do it. I’ll have Aron deliver the letter to your mailbox during his route tonight, alright? Just write, and try not to worry. I’ll figure something out, alright? I won't let her be killed.”

“I.. okay. I don't care about my own safety, I just care about hers.”

“That’s fine. Eventually, I’ll probably let you go home. But for now, with a hit on you from another gang, you’re staying here. When shit calms down, you can see her. You’ve been good enough to us that I will let you. Deal?”

Danny didn’t push the issue further. He knew this was a blessing coming from Jorel to even write the letter. It broke his heart as he watched Aron and Dylan drive away. 

Later that night, when they returned, Danny was waiting for them. He was washing dishes from his dinner when they pulled up, and he raced out to meet them. Dylan had a concerned look on his face, sighing and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, you need to sit down.”

“What?! Did you deliver the letter?”

“Uh… yeah. But…” he sighed again, closing the door. Jorel came into view, and sighed. “What? What happened?”

Dylan glanced at Danny, to Jorel, then back to Danny. “Dan…” he squatted down. “Listen… Aron went to your house to deliver, but…” He bit his lip, glancing at his feet a moment. “Just tell me!” Danny demanded.

“Dan… your mom is dead. The gang got to her first. Aron told me she was shot in her head. He left before the police showed up. He didn’t leave your letter there because it could’ve been used as evidence that you may have killed her…”

Danny couldn’t hear much after ‘the gang got her first.’ His whole face swelled, quivering his lips and falling to his knees, hugging himself on the floor as he sobbed. Dylan rubbed his shoulder, only to be scolded away. Jorel sighed, asking if that was true.

“It is. The light was on, and when I peeked in, she was shot in the head. I saw two of them run out the back of the house, it had to be them.”

“Then this battle is getting personal.” Jorel shook his head, pulling Dylan up. “Come on, leave him be. Dan, I’m sorry.”

“Just leave me alone!” Danny cried harder, his sobs echoed through the halls of the house. Jorel shooed them to their rooms, letting Danny excrete his grief until he eventually fell asleep. When he came to, he was on the couch covered with a blanket. Jorel was right next to him, flipping through channels. 

When he realized he was awake, he sighed. “I really am sorry, Dan. But now you see how serious this shit is. I don’t want you dead, too…” he was quiet for a full minute. “We made food, if you want some. I suggest you go back to your room, it's 2 PM, and me and you are going on a field trip together. Cheer you up.”

“Nothing can cheer me up…” Danny mumbled, too lazy to move but he did anyways, carrying the blanket, hugging it close. “I’ll come wake you up when it's time.” Jorel simply said, watching him leave. Danny pulled out the picture of his family, crawling between Dylan’s arms and escaping to tears again. 

Danny felt the bony fingers of Dylan wrap around his shoulder tightly, the other set brushing his hair and dabbing his tears. “Shh… It’ll be fine.”  
“I… I at least have no reason to go back, right?” Danny sniffled, burying his face to the fury of Dylan’s chest, soaking the shirt. “Stop that… You always do, Dan. You had a life and we ruined it…. I ruined it. I shouldn't have chosen you. I so infected your personal life, practically ripping you out of it and taking everything away.”

Danny said nothing. It was true, but was it really? Sure, he has a family. Still does. But truly, did he actually have anything to miss? Apart from his mother, his music, maybe his future. All of that was crushed now. He was a criminal, and the whole city of Los Angeles believed it. His mother was dead. He was considered AWOL. He was nothing. 

Yes… this was where he belonged.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn, only a few chapters left to go. Trying to make this spectacular ending go right, right? Anyways, enjoy! So happy people are enjoying this. :3

it had been another month. Time flew by unbelievably fast. After getting a little more information on the administrator, Jorel decided it was best to send someone in place of Danny. Jordon and Aron. Since Jordon's face wasn't wanted, Aron would be the distraction, while he would search for it, although with Aron leading the mission, things didn't go exactly as planned. 

Aron treated the building as a bank, holding hostages hidden beneath masks while Jordon frantically searched for the correct document. At last, it was certainly recovered. Aron fired a few bullets, growling before racing out of the building. 

Jorel was more than pleased, rewarding Aron gratefully. He brought him into his room, eager to be praised by his master. An hour later, Aron emerged shirtless, limping, yet smiling endlessly. Kiss ass.

Danny diverted the majority of attention towards the streets, coming home with wads of cash up to $200. Dylan was slowly creating a little monster, conversing this once innocent and alone college dweeb into a master drug dealer, and it was only getting worse. His first fight he walked away victorious with aching limbs and a serious black eye, while he left the other with a glass shard in his left leg. Dylan praised every devious action he took, fueling even more attacks that could lead to endless praise from Danny. With no home to even consider going back to, he learned to make himself comfortable in this new environment.

One particular night, only a few after the official document was taken, Danny and Jordon packaged baggies of weed, cocaine, edibles, and ecstasy tablets to be sold later that week, listening to The Beatles take over the radio. The song was interrupted with a newscaster, beginning his session by apologizing for the interruption.

“The missing college student Daniel Murillo, who was last heard from as an active criminal, breaking and entering the University, subduing a professor and stealing from his desk before escaping through the window and into his car--” Daniel rolled his eyes. Not even his car, you clever policemen. “--now has resurfaced as breaking into the administrator building.” Danny quickly turned it up, listening attentively.

“Murillo, wearing a mask, came into the building with another unknown man wearing a bandana, hoisted his weapon and held several employees hostage.” at this point, Jorel had walked in, tuning in with the radio story. “They arent so smart, eh? Aron's more wanted than you. You'd think even with a disguise they'd figure out it's not you.” Fanny could only shrug, seemingly agreeing. This story was unfortunate, but he was wrongfully accused in Aron's more serious situation. Hostages and weapons were involved. “According to witnesses, Murillo fired a few rounds, knocked one of the female employees unconscious, then exclaimed “Never forget the lion, Danny Murillo!”

“What the fuck…?”

“Aron didn't…” Jordon stopped, recalling the scene. “I don't remember him saying that… He did fire shots, but that was only after I had gotten the file.”

“Then he's fucking lying!”

Jorel quickly paged Aron to the kitchen, demanding explanation. “What? I so didn't!”  
“Yeah, well now there's thousands of people thinking i held a building hostage when it was really you!”   
“That's not my fault, fuck boy! And who gives a shit anyways? You're with us. Shit, taking my credit makes you seem that much more dangerous to the rivals, and that's what we want, right?”

“The rivals are probably setting you up…” Jorel said, looking down at his phone. “there's talking around the hood about the rivals having a hit of $200,000 for your death certificate in hand.” Jorel chuckled a little. “And only in a couple short months, you're an AWOL missing kid who broke into two government ran buildings, stealing classified documents and selling drugs.”

“Not all if that is true, though!” Danny started to protest. “Half this shit is set up, or glamorized by the news!”

“I know, I know. Still, impressive. This so called cash reward is, too…” Danny thought for a moment if Jorel would consider killing him and claiming the money for higher power. He changed the subject quickly. “Well, delinquent, I wanna bring you tonight to hit a house, add onto your “record” whaddaya say?” 

“Do I have a choice?”  
“True. Get that packaging finished, we leave in two hours.”

Danny couldn’t understand the connection to this house, or what made it so special. He instantly recognized the home, though. Kevin Ragan was only one of the richest authors in California. The luxurious two story victorian style manor was once a home to George himself. That wasn’t the special part, though. Danny knew George hated his father, maybe even this place. Why continue to come back to it?

Jorel speculated the attachment came from the stories themselves. George had a love for literature, and would read even his fathers books, which depicted very convivial messages. “We here to rob the place or some shit? If he knows you come here, there can't be much to take.”

“Mr. Ragan is assisting us, Danny. He leaves money and ammunition for us to take. He was supposed to get the document for us, but couldn’t. Tonight, I want to show you something. Give you a lesson you must learn to survive in this world.”

Danny got nervous. He feared the worst to happen would be Jorel murdering him, leaving his body in this expensive home and taking home a prize in dollar bills. “Mr. Ragan has caught a few traitors in his mafia, housing them here. I asked him if he would so kindly allow us to teach them some respect. And I hope you agree to assist with me.”

“Then… what are we gonna do?” Jorel grinned, beckoning with his finger for Danny to follow. Behind the double staircase, a locked doorway. Danny could only imagine what was behind it as Jorel pulled out a key from his pocket, turning the lock and pulling it open. “Don’t worry, nobody will jump out and get you. Here, take this.” He handed Danny a 9 millimeter pistol with a mischievous smile. “For defense, obviously… Come on, I’ll take the lead.”

It was only until they reached the bottom of the spooky, dark staircase when Danny realized there were people in here. They mewled and moaned like ghosts, hissing and cowering a the light Jorel flicked on. Danny’s heart nearly dropped. It reminded him of his own dire situation in the beginning of his transformation. 

Men were tied to chairs, restrained to the ground with bags over their heads. There were only three, one tipped over with no movement. Jorel already knew what they were all here for, keeping their trouble a mystery to his colleague. 

“I will teach you to be dominant, and to be a clever killer, Danny. Lesson number one, you must never show mercy. A man can tell the saddest stories through his eyes alone, but you cannot give into that. Be cautious and precise, patient and persistent. But above all, actively engaged with your own actions. You cannot communicate fear unless you give 100%, and you shall never strike respect into their hearts unless you force it down their throat yourself.”

Danny shivered, nodding as he examined these poor men. Jorel’s descriptive words sent shivers down his spine. He had been a leader for what seemed like all his life. He knew what he was doing, and he wanted his young pupil to master the art of manipulation, torture, and self respect as a leader. He started to untie them, ignoring their struggles.

“Lesson two… when you use weapons, do not rely on just that. Your words will always be by your side. They can be your enemy, or your biggest ally.” Jorel suddenly kicked over one of the chairs, making the occupant let out a squeal. From the sound of it, his mouth was also restricted of making any noise. Jorel picked up a nearby pipe, and started lashing on the man. Danny merely observed, soaking in the tension. “Recap, Danny,” Jorel huffed, looking back. “What did I say about your actions?”

“Be actively engaged. Give it your all.” Danny repeated with no stutter or hint of fear. Jorel nodded, handing him the pipe. “These men have nearly handed Mr. Ragan over to the policed. We do not want that fate for him, or for us. We punish the traitors, Danny. Your final lesson to remember, is you are never above, nor below any rumor. Stay on your feet, whether it’s true or not, and avenge yourself, always. Gangs are great to have your back, and I trust the majority of you to defend not only yourselves, but each other when needed. Show me what a merciless leader would do, Danny. Imagine they killed your mother. What would you do?” 

Danny growled, disturbed with the fact that she was dead. He wanted to sneer at Jorel for bringing it up, but there was a man right there, and he had a weapon in his hand. He put it to good use.

All of the tension and rage redirected through Danny’s fingertips as he held the pipe, lashing over and over. He was positive he had broken a few bones in this man’s body. He hadn’t even seen his face. Jorel untied the second one, telling Danny to go search through a drawer for a weapon choice.

Danny didn’t sort through the drawer long, deciding on a pair of pliers. Jorel had tied Danny’s ‘victim’ to a table, slipping off his bag. Danny didn't think there was a possible way to harm this guy severely with only a pair of pliers. Jorel quickly proved him wrong. He took the pair, latching it to the man’s teeth and pulling as hard as he could. One harsh tug yanked his tooth out, sending it flying across the room. Blood splattered Jorel’s face, dotting the bridge of his nose and right above his eyelid. “See? You gotta be creative, no matter the situation. Think on the spot, yes?”

“Is this the kind of shit Matt does to those people in the basement?” Danny choked, yet had to hold back the tears in this situation. 

“Somewhat. Shit, I don't know exactly, but I know it isnt pretty. Most insane that man did? Filled the basement tub with chemical water, submerging the man and igniting him. Wasn't much of him left.” Danny squeaked, jumping when Jorel backhanded him. “We aint leaving until you start spilling blood.”

“You can't be serious…?”

“You can’t either. I’ve seen what you can do. Dylan told me about that fight you got in. You enjoy inflicting pain on others, Danny. You just don't realize how strongly.”

“But I can’t murder…”

“Not saying kill him. I merely wish you would learn from me, especially with unknown monsters coming after you.”

Danny sighed. To a point, he had to agree with Jorel. He had to toughen up and adapt eventually. Jorel patted his shoulder, and skipped over to the other man on the floor. Danny stared at the wall while listening to the muffled cries for serenity. In the corner of his eye, he could sense Jorel put him over his knee, cracking a bone. This man was too good at what he did.

When he at last looked down, he remembered what he told him about men’s stories in their eyes. His bloody mouth foamed and quivered, too sore to even beg. His eyes were pitiful pools of nothing but bitter sadness. Emptiness. It reminded Danny of himself in a way, so dismissing it was a bit more manageable. “You can't live in fear.” he whispered hoarsely, shutting his mouth. 

Danny scowled. “We can't both walk free.” he simply said, and picked up a nearby pair of scissors. “I will relieve you of your burden…” Danny, with scissors firm in hand, clutched them at eye level, steadying aim, preparing for the spill. 

Jorel was in the middle of suffocating his share when he suddenly jumped at the ear-piercing howl coming from the table. Danny’s stance was aggressive, clenching his hands together near the man’s face, and he saw it-- the fountain of blood sprayed Danny’s shirt for a moment until he retreated, fearful. The scissors dug into the man’s eye socket that sprinkled fresh blood until he eventually ceased noise.

Danny dropped to the ground on his knees, holding his head in his hands and sobbing, quietly mumbling about killing a man. “Go on upstairs, Dan. I’ll take care of this shit.” He didn’t have to be told twice. He raced up, throwing himself on the first piece of furniture he could find. It was hard to find any humbleness with the continuous roaring from downstairs. 20 minutes and he decided to get up, find George’s bedroom and get something to change into. 

The water in the sink turned pink from the sick. Danny scraped blood from under his fingernails and rubbed it from his hair. He found a clean shirt, nevermind his jeans that proved cleaner than expected. He returned to the spacy living room, sitting himself back on the couch. Jorel emerged blood free with a smirk.

“Impressive.”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t be like that. See, I told you you can do it. If Jordon can, so can you.”

“You made me kill.”

“No, you chose that yourself. I simply gave you a few lessons on maintaining status, Danny. You took the action to kill yourself. You could’ve easily taken those scissors and cut him to ribbons, but instead, in almost instant kill… but let’s stop talking about them, shall we? I feel that I haven’t been praising you enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jorel approached a bit closer, removing his jacket and tossing it. When he reached for his belt, it didn’t take any further action for Danny to realize this was the type of praise Aron had received. 

“I know we had a little incident towards the beginning of it. But, coming from Dylan, your report is excellent. You have always obeyed without question, showing interest in the streets. You converted so quickly, it's unbelievable.”

“I’m not converted, Jorel… I’ll never be a ruthless killer like the rest of you, I hope you know that.”

“Dylan isn’t. He’s never actually killed a man. Hardcore torture, yes. But never kill.” Jorel shook his head, doing his best to change the subject. He leaped on Danny, opening the zipper on his jeans. “Nevertheless, you’re doing great… I was concerned I’d have to get rid of you the day after the heist, but… you proved me so damn wrong. I’d like to have you around more.”

Danny could already feel jorel’s hard on as he laid him back, lifting his legs into the air. “It's… it's not like I have anywhere else to go. You practically stole everything from me… I have no more dreams, no more family. Everyone thinks I’m some runaway criminal.”

Jorel frowned. “You are…” he pushed in without warning, forcing a hiss from Danny’s lips. Jorel had never been gentle with sex. It wasn’t him at all. He began with a harsh and painful pace, barley letting up for Danny to even move to a more comfortable position. Still, he moaned like a cheap whore, shutting his eyes shut.

“Daniel… I have… a secret for you…” Jorel whispered, leaning closer. “What...ever it is.” Danny could hardly speak. “I… fuck!”  
“Shh… Danny. Your mother is alive…”

Danny’s eyes fluttered open again, out of breath even though they hardly began. “W-what?”  
“She hides in San Diego… With your brother.” Danny had several questions all at once, but was in no condition to begin asking. Jorel pressed his body against his, hiding his face behind Danny’s, continuing to pound. Danny screamed with excitement and pain all at once, trying his hardest to enjoy any part of this. For one thing, Jorel definitely found his spot. Hard to miss when it feels like this… “J-Jo-AH!” Shit, Danny soiled himself. Well, at least they weren’t new jeans.

Jorel took a while to release, but when he finally did, he quickly pulled out, redressing his area like nothing had even happened. With renewed energy, Danny struggled to get to his feet. He was positive he was bleeding, but didn’t bother to even check. “J-Jorel! My mother… she’s alive?!”

“What? Oh, yeah.” his leader took a deep breath, searching around. “Ever Since your disappearance, she’s been away from the house. We’ve tracked her to your brother’s house in San Diego. She’s fine.”

“Then… WHY THE FUCK wouldn’t you tell me sooner?! How long have you kept this from me?” Danny was on his feet now, mere inches away from someone who just killed and fucked him. “I just found out about this days ago! She released a statement on your criminal activity! I didn't want to tell you until we were here so you wouldn’t run off again.”

“But… Aron said she was dead!” Danny began to weep again, the involuntary action taking over him. “She was shot!”  
“Look, I don’t know what’s up with that. Just be happy she’s alive.”  
“But Aron! He lied! He’s lied about my mom’s death, about my identity, about my background… he stood me up in that hostage situation back at the admin’s building! He’s trying to pin that shit on me, you know! How fucking dumb are you, Mr. Big Leader?!”

Jorel blinked, surprised. “Danny, Aron…” he sighed, rubbing his chin in thought. “Okay, you’re right about him being a stubborn ass. I don’t know for sure if he’s actually doing that shit on purpose, but it’s also something I would believe. Fuck, I’m getting sick of his shit anyways…. Wait, shh!” 

Danny quieted, then heard a car door slam. “Uh… should we run?”  
“No, no, no. He’s home. Just be polite, let me do the talking.”

Kevin Ragan walked into his own home hardly reacting to his unusual visitors as if they lived there themselves. “Ah, Jorel. How’s I know you’d be here tonight?”

“You know me. Getting ahead on errands.”

“The traitors taken care of?”

“Yessir. We have our car loaded, as well.”

Ragan froze, staring at Danny. “No George…? Jorel! What in the hell are you doing housing a fugitive?”  
“Sir, he’s no fugitive.”

“Well, it’s been all over the news! Daniel Murillo, convicted of robbing two government ran buildings, subduing teachers, taking hostages, even rumored to kill.”

“That’s hardly true, sir.”

“I know it isn’t. I know all about your mission, Decker. You’re just lucky you got your hands on that file before you-know-who did. I shouldn’t say this, but I have the right connections… Someone is setting your boy here up. I think it's your little rival gang, pinning this whole circle of assaults on one man who’s only been missing, or running away as an AWOL, for a few months.”

Jorel and Danny sat, listening to Mr. Ragan continue. “Jorel… if they can track him down, they’ll find you eventually. You need to get the fuck--”

“Shh! Not in front of the kid!” Jorel stopped him. “Yeah, I know. I’m still making plans, but every step I take, they beat me to it. I don’t even know who the fuck these morons are, or how they’re even finding out my plans, it's a mystery.”

“But I do… I know who’s been hunting you, Jorel. Their leader is not so sneaky, you know. He stalks you to the core, finding every detail of your intentions.”

Jorel stood again. “Who the fuck is he?! Hand him over!”

“Now, keep your head on! I do not know his name… I know a few of his members, though. He’s experienced, that’s for sure. He’s always one step ahead of you, Jorel. I suggest you stay low for the next few days, and hardly whisper a word about any plans to many people. Come next week, I am setting a trap for this worm.”

“I wish to bury him alive.”

“You’ll get to do what you please, on one condition: you follow through and put that damn document to action, alright? Get the fuck out of here.” he was careful with his words. Danny still didn’t understand, but remained quiet, letting them talk business.”

“Then it’s settled… You get the rival’s leader, and we will put an end to their shit. I’ll reread the file and come up with something. I’ll let George and Dylan know only… “

“Very good. Now, get out of my fucking house.”

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Jorel remained eerily quiet for the remainder of the day, hiding himself away in his room for hours, trying to determine what the fuck was going on. Jordon informed everyone that Danny was in the paper for blowing a car up. “You’re always in the house yet getting accused of felonies everywhere… Aron’s wearing a mask running around saying he’s you. Last we saw him was like, two days ago.” 

“So he’s running around claiming to be the fucking runaway college student. Either to keep heat away from him, or get you fucking killed.” George looked over at Jorel’s door. “He’s probably setting you up or some shit. Jorel should get rid of him, if he wants to put the file to play.”

Danny was getting sick of this whole ‘file secret’ bullshit. He was doomed to remain there forever, what was the fucking point of keeping it a secret?! Everyone agreed that this misfit college boy was ripped from his own little life into criminal activity, violence, drugs, and gay sex. Even murder.

George disappeared towards the back of the home, leaving the group to discuss. If anyone was going to face Jorel about Aron, it of course had to be the person strong enough to handle any temper tantrum. Jorel was sitting on the edge of his bed, facing the window. The papers lay scattered messily across the duvet, his hands clasped in deep thought. George shuffled the papers in a fitted pile, setting them aside and crawling on his knees behind Jorel.

“What kind of thoughts plague your mind tonight?”

Jorel kept quiet, only shaking his head. “Jorel, we’re running out of time. When are we going to start packing?” 

“Not soon enough.” Came a soft response. “They’re closing in on us, George. Your father better find their leader quickly. The faster we find him, the faster we can eliminate this threat and get the fuck out.”

“And… have you made up your mind about leaving him behind?”

“I’m not sure. I may have to kill him…”

“He’s just a kid, Jorel.” the latter sighed, bowing his head. “I know. I was going to bring him with us, but his mother lives.”

“What? How? I thought you said she was dead?”

“Think about it, George. Aron was sent to deliver his sorry-ass letter, keeping it, and coming back claiming she was dead. It's obvious he faked that shit so we can keep Daniel around. No mother, no attachment to his private world anymore. Now, he’s staging a lot of publicity towards Danny, you know that. He could be wanted by the FBI by now… Which is why I can’t figure out a reason to let him live. He’s innocent, yes, but with that much beef on his head, if he ever gets caught, so do we.”

“Kill him if you want, but remember this: to get rid of a problem, strike it at it’s source, not it's contaminate.”  
“So what the fuck are you saying?”  
“I’m saying it’s not the kid’s fault. Aron’s the shitter in this, and he’s paying for it.”  
“Maybe I should kill them both. Give them silver bullets and throw them in a room together.”  
“That won't fix anything.”  
“Then fuck it. I’ll kill all of you fuckers.” Jorel was raising his voice now, looking over his shoulder. “Starting with you, and I’ll make the kid watch, just like I made him today.”

“Don’t start this shit, Jorel! You’ll end up creating a monster you don’t want to fight yourself.”  
“I always win.” George didn’t respond, only scoffed, glazing his fingertips around Jorel’s neck. “Just kill Aron, Jorel… You yourself said Aron was staging this shit.” George’s teeth bit into skin. 

“You just want to get rid of Aron.”  
“True, but you do too, don’t even lie.” Jorel growled, searching for any practical reason to refuse the attention he was receiving. Still, they never did it in the house, especially with everyone inside. He could only remain silent while George’s hands explored the front of his body, pushing himself against his back. “Jorel, he’s disguising himself as Danny, causing shit that’s gonna backfire. The kid’s not in the wrong, here. He did what you asked, didn’t he?”

“Don’t you dare try to soften me up.”  
“Spill blood in a smarter way, Jorel. I think Danny should come with us.”  
“Well, I don't. He’s gonna run away to find his mother, and turn us in….stop fucking touching me!”

George ignored him, only encouraged by his words. He dipped his right hand down Jorel’s waistband, the flaccid organ rested in his hand. “You bastard…” Jorel merely grunted. “Maybe I should just fucking put a bullet in you.”

“You won't. Then, there would be no one else to like you.” he continued to rub, striving for any reaction or hint of change in Jorel’s member. He elbowed him, twisting himself around onto George’s lap, pinning him on the bed. “Ah, feisty, are we?”

“When this is over and we ditch the fugly five, we can get a bigger bed. Even farther away from the city, so we can scream as loudly as we fucking can.”

“As far away from them, right? Me, you, the American dream…” George slid his hands up Jorel’s shirt, watching him take it off with pryful eyes. He kneaded a thumb over his scar with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll finally repay for that someday.” he pulled Jorel down for a biting kiss, nibbling his bottom lip. 

Jorel moaned in the kiss, and began to eagerly grind his hips against his partner. “Will you… ah, help me get rid of him?”  
“Always, my master.”  
“Very good. Now, this shirt is coming off--”

They both stopped, irritated that George’s phone had just began to ring. “Ignore it.”   
“It’s my father, it may be important.”

“Your father?! Maybe he found the rival’s leader! Answer it, quickly!” 

+=+=+=+=+=+

Everyone was on edge the entire trip to the Ragan Mansion. The author managed to find the rival group, capturing three of its members, including the leader. Jorel’s mood had dramatically changed. He wasn’t going to allow anyone to get in his way. This was the opportunity he was waiting for. “His fucking head is going to be mounted on my wall… remember, everyone, Mr. Ragan hasn’t touched them. He’s waiting for our arrival first. We don’t know how many members there are, so the home could be invaded with their leader inside. Stay on your feet…”

Danny was nervous, and hyped. He felt adrenaline the same way a sickening race would give you. He would be face to face with the men who wanted him dead, which could go both ways. Dylan’s distant repeated words fired in his mind: _”I won't let you fall.”_

Mr. Ragan’s security was a bit scary; at least a dozen mob members circling the perimeter. Strangely comforting, pleasantly uneasy. Jorel and George had private talk with his father in another room while the remainder stayed in the living room. Danny watched Jordon and Matt sit on the same couch he and Jorel had their hardcore sex on. He remembered what he had revealed to him… he had to see his mother again, somehow, someway. Why would Aron lie about it? Why disguise himself as Danny doing criminal work? More importantly, where had he been the past week? Last they heard of him, he blew up a car just today.

Finally, the trio returned. “Alright. We have the office to ourselves, everyone, get inside, and get ready. Protect Jorel if anything goes wrong, and take care of yourselves as well as the others around you.” George lectured, ushering the group in. Everyone crowded around the space, Jorel perched on the desk as they waited for mob members to bring him.

Danny could hear footsteps approaching, as well as his own heart throbbing inside his ears. This man had a bag over his head, grunting, struggling against George and Matt’s grip. Once the door was closed, Jorel cracked his knuckles, then struck them. “What? You ain’t gonna say shit? I’ve killed rabbits with more courage than you.”

Still, the man said nothing. Matt and George had to pull him back up from the ground to his knees. “Who the fuck are you?! What do you even call yourself?” Nothing. “And who the fuck is putting a cash hit on one of my boys?” Danny froze. His boy? Was that a front, or the truth? No time to think now, stay focused, Danny-Boy.

“Yeah, all talk until he comes face to face with J-D-O-G.” Jorel shook his head, chuckling. “So, stranger. Since you’re not nearly as tough as you think you are--”

“The fucking money.” They suddenly said, a very low, husky voice. Danny found it strangely familiar. “Money? What money?”

“You and your fucking file. It’s a fucking joke, J-Whore. Do your ‘boys’ even know what your intentions are? Ditching them with your lover to go--” Another harsh slap. Jorel captured the man in his icy grip, hissing in his face. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“We’re… we’re 9 Lives, you bitch!”

“What?” Jorel laughed a little, smirking at his comrades. “What the fuck does that even mean? Who are you, really?” Jorel finally took the bag off, and stopped, backing away. Even Matthew and George found themselves retreating in shock. “... Aron?!” Jorel hollered, appalled.

“You big bitch… Call me Big Deuce…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See now? I told you I'd give you an update soon. Praise me. Torture in this, and small sex scene so... enjoy?

“There has to be a mistake.”  
“Sure, boss. That’s why he’s referring himself as ‘Big Deuce’ and the leader of this gay ass ‘9Lives’ gang that mysteriously knows everything about our whereabouts.”  
“Don't patronize me, Matt!”

“You ladies gonna work this out so I can leave?” Aron snickered, cocking his  head. “It’s been real fun, but--”  
“Yeah, you're not going fucking anywhere, you backstabbing piece of trash.” Jorel pinched Aron’s chin, gritting his teeth. Aron only smirked back, play-biting at Jorel’s hand like a feral dog. “Your silly taunts aren’t gonna phase me.”  
“How bout my fist up your ass?”  
“Ooh, I think I would enjoy that very much.” 

Jorel smacked him across his face twice, kicking his chest to knock him down. “The past two fucking years you’ve been running around behind my back. A fucking rat right under my nose and for some reason I still couldn’t smell your filth. You’re never going to interfere with my business again… Let’s go, boys.”

Danny remained dead silent the trip back. Aron was put inside the trunk of Jorel’s car and dragged down to the basement, stripped of his clothing and tied to a metal pillar. Matt stood near the cabinets, shuffling through the contents searching for his next toy to play with. Aron wiggled like a worm on a hook, sizing up every person in the room. 

“You’re all fucking fools to be following this asshole. Don't give me this ‘refuge’ shit, either! He took your lives away and killed you in ways you can't even see… You say I’m the bad guy? 9Lives is only helping you.”

“By what, exactly? If I had that document sooner, we all would’ve been saved. Had I known it was your stupid fucking boy scouts tracking me, none of us would be in this shit show. Danny wouldn’t have been here, closer to becoming his dream if it wasn’t for you.”  
“Me? You’re the one who fucking sent Dylan searching for cute college boys to do your dirty work.” He looked over Jorel’s shoulder, eyes burning into Danny’s. “Has your lover mentioned any of the poor boys he’s lured in bed, sweetheart? Or has Jorel even hinted his malicious intent for you?”

Danny squeaked, shivers up his spine. He knew better than to speak out, but he was curious. Jorel’s plans remained a mystery to him. “You set me up…” was all he could say. “You posed as me and spread fear in the city like wildfire… why?”

“What? I don’t want to have a mark on myself, Goldie. You should thank me, anyways. I got your rep up without you lifting a damn finger.” George suddenly swung a metal bar through the air that collided with Aron’s cheek. The unforeseen action caused Danny to jump, strangely admiring George’s tactic. Aron’s lip was bleeding, smacking them together to ease his jaw. “Enough, Aron.”

“Oh, come on George…” Aron was nearly out of breath from the abrupt blow. “Of course you’re not concerned about this at all; you’re Jorel’s favorite, and he’s gonna let you live. You all better watch your fucking backs, because he’ll get ya... He’s gonna murder every single one of you…” He stared straight at Danny again. “And he’ll start with burying your ass in a shallow grave… He got what he wanted, now he just needs to--”

Another intense blow, this time from Jorel. And another, on his other side. A third, on his side. “Shut the fuck up!” Aron screeched loudly, spitting blood with fire in his eyes. “Don’t start this shit again you selfish prick! You’re fucking killing all these bastards then booking it out of the country with your submissive whore and your money! Run off the face of the earth with your hospital paperwork without a care in the fucking world. You boys better start running!”

Jorel continued to hit with no hint of restraint. Even this was petrifying to Danny. When he finally concluded his assault, he squatted on his knees to catch his breath. Aron’s face was almost unrecognizable from the amount of blood, his nude body shivered beneath the robes that burned into his skin. He mumbled inaudible words, releasing eerie breaths of laughter. 

Jorel began to whisper something to Matt who was still on standby, and Aron’s eyes caught Danny’s once more. He shivered, quickly searching for a weapon as if he was set free any moment. A sledgehammer: rusty and old, the handle wobbly in his hands. He held it like a bat, slowly approaching. His actions had all eyes on him.

“B-beware, Danny Murillo… you’re in a house of liars…”  
“And you’re the biggest one… You said you killed my mom.” Danny tried not to show fear. He wanted to be strong. Aron was like a monster he had to defeat in a way. He kept referring to those faithfully accurate lessons Jorel had given him not long ago. Show no fear, no mercy. You’re above them. “Why?”

“Come on, Dan… I did you a favor there, as well. How else were you supposed to stay with us? Detachment from your homely world was the best for you… Just be happy I decided not to pull the trigger.”

“You still fucking lied! I was lost… I was ready to go back to her and you fucking ruined it!”  
“Oh, please. Jorel ruined it. He told me himself he was planning on releasing you, but killing you would’ve been a better option.” Danny shifted his eyes without movement of his head, towards their so called great leader. Weather it was true or not, he couldn’t focus on that. “Apologize.”

“Fuck you.”  
“Apologize for fucking lying to me! She’s ill in the head, she can't live without me, and you had the balls to tell me your ‘gang’ killed her?! When really it was you! You never delivered my letter, either!”  
“Come now, Danny. She can now live a better life without a disgrace like you… But I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t pull the trigger on that bitch of yours. Your mother’s blood on my hands would be an awfully great phenomenon.”

Hammer in hand like a baseball back, Danny swung it downwards, whacking Aron’s shoulder and breaking the betal from the handle. The collision caused the latter to scream in agony, even bringing him to tears from the blow. Danny dropped the handle with shaky hands, backing away. Aron’s bones were definitely broken.

Danny quickly ran up the stairs to his shared room, throwing himself on the bed. Jorel  couldn’t help but chuckle, even through the sobs of his victim. “Well… I guess that’s it for this little meeting.” He dismissed the others with a wave, placing a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Treat him as any other traitor… do NOT hold back… but keep him alive, for now…” 

Matt smirked, watching Jorel leave. “Always thought you’d be a little fucking rat… my instincts are never wrong.”  
“Ba-st-stard…”  
“Shh, Aron. It’ll be fine.” Aron was afraid. He had spent years inside the room of this angry, bitter, and violent man, Aron having to listen to him having rough sex with Jordon not 5 feet from them. Aron was petty as he was not in Jorel’s arms. He’d do anything to be at his side, but it was far too late for that now. He would never have Jorel’s favor, which is reason of his sneaking around. Aron decided this leader’s treachery should be stopped. “C-come on, Ma-att… I wasn’t j-just talking shit… it’s all tru-ue! He’s leaving you all! He’ll pr-pro-probably kill you!”

“Aron, you may not have understood this about me by now… But I cannot be killed.”  
“End it then! Y-you have a chance to m-mur-mur-der Jorel… The file he took… His doct--”  
“I know what it is, Aron. I’m fully aware of what it all is. As far as his plans, I may not know much, but I know it isn’t going to be of benefit to me, to Jordon, to any of us. When that day comes, Jordon and I will be hours away. And Dylan, maybe.”  
“And D-Danny?”  
“Who knows? Kid may have to fend for himself, unless Jorel decides to spare him, and his lover kind enough to have him at his side… but, we’ll save this story for another time, eh?” 

Matt pulled the ropes from Aron’s body, the younger man far too weak to attempt to escape. It as more than useless in the arms of a serial killer. He strapped his hands behind his back, tossing a rope over the ceiling’s pipes, wandering around him. For now, the rope was tied on the pole. Matt tied chains around Aron’s ankles, his fingers exploring his quaking body. “Not the best looking guy, eh?” He patted his tummy with an evil smirk.

“M-Matt… please!”  
“Not my duty to question, Aron. My duty to obey, and my orders plainly say I do whatever the fuck I want, given I keep you alive. So, don’t worry too much, alright?”

Matt tugged at the rope, raising Aron’s arms behind his back, who began to screech in pain again. His arms, lifted in reverse, creaked at the pressure, bending his body as it resisted the movement. Both his shoulders popped from their sockets in a painful crack noise, and he had never screamed so hard in his life. His already broken shoulder dislocated and snapped his collarbone, visible beneath his skin. “Ahh! FUCK! Oww…!” 

Matt smiled at his pleads, tying the rope and circling him. “Confess, or I’ll make it worse.”  
“I-I-I…” Aron couldn’t find his words. His torso was stretched, he could hardly breathe, his shoulders demanded serenity. Inaudible words escaped his mouth that dripped a cocktail of slobber and blood. “M-Maa…”

“Didn't know you was such a little bitch.” Matt smiled, seizing his throat. “What else do you know, huh? Your little army of boy scouts knows more than they bargained for. What other operations are you holding behind Jorel’s back? More drug trails? Kidnaps? Heists? Confess…”

“I CAN'T!” Aron shouted back at him. Matt hardly flinched. “Scream all you want… the Lord Himself can't even hear you…”

+=+=+=+=+=+

Dylan was right behind Danny after the incident. His hand was gentle, though he was still laughing. “That was a brave as fuck thing you did, Danny-boy. I’m impressed.”  
“I’m a monster… I broke his shoulder! Maybe his arm…”  
“Danny, he’s the monster. And I’m sure Matt is gonna break more than a fucking arm when he’s done with him.”  
“He had me there, though… I was cornered and I didn’t know what to do, I just hit him.”

“Cornered?”

Danny sighed, sitting up. After wiping his tears away with his sleeve, he stated, “Aron’s told me he could’ve easily have killed her, but didn't. How can I be so angry it him for lying when he didn’t even do anything?!”  
“You believed your mother was dead and he caused you pain, Daniel. I saw it. You were nothing but an empty shell without her. Yes, he lied, but he’s also set you up as this fake mafia criminal when you’re not, and think of your mother watching her boy on the news? That was bigger to him than her death, Danny. Suffering.”

“Still…” Dylan sighed, getting up from the bed to change his blood-stained shirt. Danny perked up, standing behind him and touching his shoulder. Dylan stopped in his tracks, attempting to hide his sensual smile. Danny wrapped his arm around Dylan’s shirtless body, pressing his face against is. Inhale.

The Mexican was warm, and, despite the copper of blood, had a distinct scent of cologne. After all that had happened, Danny just wanted to be held. He was turning into a monster… he was turning into Jorel.

“Danny, you should read one of your songs to me. I think it would calm you down a little bit.”  
“But I want you…”  
“Just read one for me, would ya? I’d prefer you to be a bit more calm before I bend you over. You’re fucking worked up after that shit.” 

Danny was ready to deny it, up until a sudden deafening and frightening scream from hell that could only come from Aron. He shivered, squeezing Dylan harder. “M-My book is in the drawer.”

Dylan laid him down, settling next to him, resting his head on his arm as he listened. “Story time, huh?” He smiled. Danny tried to compose himself, realizing he was more jittery than he imagined. After clearing his throat, he began with a stutter.

“In an old department, down in the garden… I was born on a sunny day, when the riot’s ruled the streets like a Sunday parade…” Dylan smiled at his voice as he read, rubbing his forearm. “--Earthquakes and silver lakes, false dreams? Yeah, I can see the heartbreak--”

Dylan’s fingers trailed down Danny’s stomach to his jeans, palming his area. After a brief pause, Danny shuddered, but at last began to calm down. “Whatever happened to my favorite place? Running red lights, never touched the breaks.” His jeans were unzipped, the flap opened up. Dylan started moving his body, straddling Danny’s legs and pinning him down. “You’re doing great, keep reading.”

“Um.. Ah… Tell my mother, my brothers, my fathers, and others I’ll… b-be gone in No… November with Los Angeles, my lo-lover…” He gasped, feeling Dylan’s lips on his length. This was his first time being blown by a man, and it felt surprisingly good, given his circumstance.

“T-tell… Ah, fuck!” He tossed his book aside, drawing back his head in pleasure, twisting his fingers in Dylan’s long air. He let him do his work, jerking his hips every once in a while. Danny’s moans were mostly soft squeals and pitiful moans, many of them restrained inside of him. 

When it was over, Dylan licked him clean, pinching his cheek in playfulness. Danny smiled, ready to show gratitude until he heard the cries of Aron from the basement. “Shh, don't worry about it. Matt’s taking care of it.”

“Yeah, but… Fuck, I won't be able to sleep like this. Especially thinking about my mother now. After reading that, it’ll be on my mind all night.”

Dylan was quiet a moment, looking behind him. He lunged at the door, quietly peeking out in search of any ears. “Listen, Dan…” He closed the door again. “If you wish to see your mother again, I will take you.”

Danny let go of harsh breaths, a smile forming on his face, like he had just received good news. Your cancer is gone, you’re going to be a father, you’ve been accepted to the college of your dreams. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Of course… but we’d have to be sneaky about it, and never breathe a word to anyone else. This is a hostile time, you know that. With Aron’s whole fucked up scenario, Jorel’s gonna get more pissed at everything even more. When everyone falls asleep, we go. But we can't be long.”

Danny was ecstatic the next two hours. Dylan had brought food, but he rejected it. Although, when the time had come to leave, had had turned eerily silent. Once they were on the main roads, Dylan questioned him.

“I thought you’d be more excited to see her.”  
“I am, I just…” He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “How the fuck is she gonna react to me? Disappearing from her life, showing up on the news as a registered criminal. She’s the mother of a delinquent now. What if she doesn’t want me as a son anymore?”

“Child abandonment? Fuck, I don't know, man. As disappointed as she may be, she’d surely be happy to see you alive. After the stunts Aron pulled posing as you, one could only assume you’d be dead after you went cold.”

“Yeah,  I guess…” Danny stared out the window at the crescent moon. How the fuck was he even going to explain himself? When they arrived, Dylan examined the house, a bit confused. “We gonna break in?” Danny only shook his head, walking over to a nearby pot of peonies, finding a hidden key. “You outta just wait in the living room. She would be scared shitless if she saw me with a strange man.”  
“Right… And not to be mean, but please be quick. I don't want to be a pussy but dammit if Jorel finds out, we’re both fucking dead.”  
“Shh… we’re in.”

Familiarity of Danny’s house filled his senses. The smell of his mother’s candle wax, the night light in the hallway, shaped like an ancient tree, the old couch, the photographs of him and his brothers spread the wall. A new sight was his own picture, sat atop one of their cabinets. His portrait, which happened to be his most recent college photo, in a huge frame. Flowers, childhood toys, and wallet-sized photos of his youth surrounded it. A candle burnt from extinction. It was like a shine… a shrine for the lost, or dead. 

How lovely of her to hold him so close in her memory. She must’ve thought he was truly dead… Like a soldier never returning from war. Dylan awkwardly sat on the couch fiddling with his thumbs as Danny slowly crept down the halls. He first peeked in his room. It was perfect; the floor had no trash or dirty clothes, his bed was made, and more photos were hung of him. His guitar was placed gently on his bed. He grabbed it, setting it by his door to take with him. 

At last, he came to his mother’s room. To his surprise, there were no beer bottles or cans. She hadn’t been drinking like usual, even with her precious boy gone forever. As he approached, he felt mixed feelings of love, attachment, but also fear and regret. As he reached out to touch her shoulder, he stopped.

What benefit would this have…? 

He wakes her up, and of course she knows he’s alive. A joyous occasion, sure. But he would have to leave her again. How would he explain that? ‘Sorry, ma. I have to go back to the murderous, fucked up gang I was forced into. Love you, bye.’ What kind of son would that make him? What kind of person did this make him?

He lowered his hand, softly sighing. He watched with humbleness for a few minutes as he just watched her chest slowly rise and fall, her face twitch from a dream. He raised the covers over her chest more, and kissed her head. “Your little boy has grown. Don't worry about me, alright? I’m sorry, mom.”

 

Dylan was standing when he came out, arms out in confusion. “You alright? What’s going on?”  
“Nothing. It went well, thank you.” Danny grabbed his guitar, and headed for the door. “What, just like that? You didn’t even talk.”  
“Don't need to. I’m letting her go.”  
“Go? This isn’t a girlfriend, Dan. This is your mother… the most important person to you.” Danny was quiet up until they successfully got outside the door, locking it again. He held the key in his hand, squeezing it and pushing it inside his pocket. “I know… I’m letting her go. She has moved on, now it is time for me as well.”

“WHAT?!” Dylan chased him to the car, pulling him back. “Dan, come on! I saw the shrine too, and she thinks you’re dead, wouldn’t it be great for her to see you’re really not?”  
“No… No, it wouldn’t. She will live her life thinking I’m dead, and eventually find peace within herself. She stopped drinking for my sake… Her little boy is gone, and she doesn’t have to worry as much. Going back into her life would only bring her even more sorrow, Dylan. She would sit every day and wonder where I am. Wonder why I’m in this situation. Wonder why she wasn’t there for me, and what she could have done… so no, I’m not allowing her to live her life in questioning like that. I’d give anything to talk to her again… but I just can't. Her happiness is more important than my own life… Come on, we’re going home.” 

Danny’s monologue left Dylan speechless. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, and join Danny in the car, driving off into the night. They were nearly there when he finally commented. “That was brave, Danny. More brave than what you had did with Aron. To give her up because you love her, to sacrifice your own life so she can find peace, is amazing. I’m sorry it had to turn out like this…”

“It’s fine, please don't start.”  
“Well fuck, Dan! You could’ve been graduated by now, clean slate, on your way to meet a record dealer eager to hear your amazing voice, hear your ideas, and make a deal with you. I’m such a fucking idiot!”  
“Then did what Aron say was true? Did you see others before me?”

“Kind of… Jorel just told me to find college boys like yourself who would have access to the psychiatrist's office… I nearly got two on the hook, but you were so damn easy to capture. First night I even met you, I just knew you’d be the one. So eager to help. You didn’t know to be afraid. I don't care if you wanna hear it or not, I am sorry, alright?”

“Yeah, I get it. But, we’re too deep into it now… what about Jorel’s plan? Do you know what it is? Or even, how it will affect us? Do you really think he’d kill us all?”  
“I… don't know. I’d hope not. But don't worry… I won't let you fall. If we die, it’s together. Matt’s planning on taking Jordon and leaving if anything happens, and I propose we do the same. Keep an eye on each other, and flee if Jorel explodes in any way. But, we’ll see how shit unfolds. Deal?”

“Yeah… deal.”

The sun was beginning to rise when the duet returned; time being when the others may have been asleep still. However, the kitchen light was on, indicating activity in the home. “Fuck.”

Jordon was busy stuffing duffle bags with cartridges and bottles, giving the duo a troubled. “Where the fuck have you been?!” he demanded in a hushed yell.   
“Shh! Fuck, shut your face. Just on a little house run.”  
“Dylan, Jorel’s on edge right now, you can't just go out tapping houses.”  
“Tap who’s house?” Jorel stood in the doorway, hoodie draped around his shoulder. It was the first time Danny had seen him without a shirt on, and couldn't help but stare. Yeah, he was fit, almost too skinny for his size, like he hardly ate. Danny didn’t want to look to long, except his multiple flesh wounds kept his eyes busy.

“Dylan, whose house was it?”  
“I don't fucking know, a suburban near the outskirts of--”  
“Mrs. Murillo?”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat. He was forbidden to see his mother again; he never had permission to see her from Jorel officially, and he had sneaked off behind his back, while he was already dealing with another member sneaking behind his back causing trouble for the group. 

“Who fucking told you that?!” Dylan was queary, knitting his brows. “There’s no way you could’ve--”  
“No. You did. Just now.” Jorel beamed frightfully. Dylan started drawing back, capsized how he fell for Jorel’s evil tactic. “Oh no, Dylan, you look so disturbed for having sneaking into a residency behind my back… considering our dire situation and the person living there.”

“Jorel, we really didn’t do anything…” Danny began, drawing attention away from Dylan.   
“Yeah, didn’t do anything… nice guitar. Is that a Yamaha?”  
“Jorel… I’m sorry, alright?”  
“Danny, you’ve already seen first hand the punishments I deliver for betrayal.”  
“You can't expect me not to!” He was yelling now, throwing his arms in the air. “Aron fucking lied, you heard it yourself! I had to see for myself.”  
“Entering homes, or even fucking leaving without my fucking permission--”  
“Just fucking get over yourself! Fuck, why can't you be a decent person?!”

Dylan looked nervous, inching away from Danny. Jorel, ferocious with Danny’s outburst, knocked him on the side of the head with an enclosed fist. With Danny on the floor momentarily, Jorel’s anger took over, seizing Dylan and throwing him across the room.

Danny’s vision was blurred a moment, peering through locks of hair at Jorel, hunched over Dylan firing arms at his body. “J-Jorel! Stop!” Any effort Danny attempted to tear him away from Dylan was useless. George quickly came down the hall, forcefully removing him from the situation. “Jorel, it was my idea! Get off him! Take it out on me--” Danny felt an excruciating knot hit his head, tumbling back to the ground and it suddenly went black as he listened to the sounds of Dylan’s cries fading away.

It wasn’t long until he finally came to, hissing at the light peeking through the window. Jordon knelt beside him, water bottle in hand and Danny could feel the icy brisk of the water on his face that had assisted in his waking. “Dan? You alright? You hit your head pretty fucking hard.”

Growling, Danny struggled to get up. “No, he hit my head pretty fucking hard…”  
“Well, yeah, but you also bumped your forehead on the coffee table.” Had he? He couldn’t even remember that detail. “How long have I…?”  
“Like, 40 minutes, maybe? I know I should’ve helped you sooner, but after Jorel took Dylan to his room, I was ordered to just finish my packages and--”  
“Jorel’s room? Dylan?” 

Aron’s screams returned to Daniel’s mind, and he couldn’t help but imagine himself in a similar situation. Not only that, but his experience in that same room as well: Last time Danny was in there he was stripped and beaten with cat-o-nine tails. It was clear that Jorel’s room was primary in member punishment. 

It was understood that Jorel blamed Dylan for what had happened, and Danny didn’t want to discover the same fate, yet he felt horrendously guilty. He dragged Dylan down with his dirty idea of running away like that to see his mother, only to not accomplish much in his eyes.

“My fault… all my fucking fault.”  
‘What are you talking about? Hey, careful getting up, Jesus…”  
“Just… all of this! It’s all because of me.”  
“The fuck you saying, Danny?”  
“Ever since I got that file… Everything’s gone downhill from there. Aron’s been framing me, I’m never going to fucking leave, and I convince Dylan to take me to see my mother. Fuck me.”

He stood, feet disagreeing on a proper stance, and tumbled down the hall to pound on the end door. “Jorel!” the handle worked, surprisingly, bursting through the door. Jorel and George merely perched on the bed, relaxed as low volume metal music played. Danny huffed, searching frantically for his partner who wasn’t on the bed. 

Resigning in the small animal cage in the corner, he recognized the naked quivering body, arched on his hands and knees squeezed in the small space. “Danny, what a surprise.” Jorel chewed on Ritz crackers, smacking his lips. “Most people politely knock, but I’ll let this one pass.”

“Jorel, you know I fucking did it.”  
“Do what? Stole from the cookie jar? Stop being a child, Danny, be more specific.”  
“I fucking made Dylan drive me to see my mom. I mentioned I missed her and just wanted to see her again.”  
“Seems so… however, according to Dylan, you didn’t even speak with her. Stared at her sleeping in dead silence, grabbed your guitar and left. Which begs the question…” 

Jorel rose to his feet, ugly grin smeared his face. “You could’ve ran. You could have woken your mother up, confessed your duty, convince her of your innocence and your life would revert back to normal, yet you came back.”

“I just… I don't know, Jorel. I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t let her live on knowing her son is a fucking delinquent.”  
“She thinks you are dead.”  
“Exactly… If she knew I was alive it would only make things harder for her. I want her to continue her life without me in it… She’s had enough humiliation to deal with, I’m sure. Just leave her out of it.”

“Fine. You wanna stay here, I don't have a problem with it.” Jorel peeked over his shoulder, a low chuckle escaped his mouth. “Dylan, your intuition proved to be useful, eh? A good choice on the right kid to take.”

“Jorel, let him go… he’s done nothing wrong, really. I’m the one that ought to be punished.”  
“Too late, it’s already been done. Besides, I’m exhausted… dealing with ‘Deuce’ and your skittish boyfriend, exercise time with George… Please, I’ll release him later. Go to your room, you’re excused.”

“No.” Danny shook his head, swallowing. “I’m not finished speaking with you.”

George glanced over at last, confused. Even Dylan found himself raising his head with curiosity. “Talking is not something I feel like doing at the moment, Daniel…”  
“Make time. This is important. I need to know… what’s gonna happen to us?”  
“Do not even start…”  
“With me! Aron said you were going to kill me, kill us!”

“Aaaand… you believe that? Another suspicious lie on the list, Danny.”  
“Aron, then. Is it true you’ll kill him? For his treachery.”  
“... more than likely. For now, Matt is assigned with attempting to get any more information out of him. His members Truth and Brian are still at the Ragan Mansion, but there could be more out there lurking about, closing in to rescue their leader, perhaps, or plot against us. If he has more tricks up his sleeves, I’d like to know. But, with Matt’s handiwork, he will not last long.”

“I want to do it.”

Jorel laughed, shaking his head. “Do what, exactly? Go down and integrate?”  
“No… I want to be the one to take away his life.”

Dead silence filled the room. Jorel’s eyes narrowed, while the remaining occupants widened. “You wish to kill Aron? Am I getting this right?”  
“Yes. I don't believe he deserves to live much longer. Fuck, not just for lying to me, impersonating me… but for betraying you, this group, and now himself. When he takes his final breath, I want to be there to look in his eyes as he greets Death.”

Dylan shivered in his cage, hanging onto every word. He couldn’t be serious?! He would try to stop him if it wasn’t for the gag restraining him. Danny didn’t seem to realize his life would be even more ruined, more destructive, more miserable and painful than ever and he was eager to accept. He had a choice, and he was choosing wrong. Most members didn’t have that opportunity to just walk away and return to their parents-- Dylan’s parents could care less about their bastard child. Jordon’s parents ceased to exist. Aron’s just left, giving him up to an unknown fate. Jorel’s… 

Danny was different. He still had a loving mother awaiting her son to fall into her tender arms. Though she had problems, according to Danny’s notebook she seemed like an incredible woman. And he just… gave up on her. Gave up on returning to his prosperous life. Why…?  
Jorel’s mouth curled into a beaming smile, giving George a look, who just shrugged. “Aron’s suffering will linger longer on my behalf… however, if that is what you wish, I guess I’ll have to grant it for you. But Danny, understand a few things… I will monitor and ensure nothing… bad happens. You will not erratically murder, you will do it tastefully and with precision, you understand? As of now, you are still a prisoner under this roof… complete this task and you will be an official member. That means you will obey orders, fulfill future duties, and face the world every day in the shadows… Do you accept, Daniel Murillo? End a life to sign yours away to me? There is NO turning back…”

No hesitation. Danny nodded with another glance at his mate. “Yes. Aron’s life on my hands, and I give myself to you. I will belong to you and remain by your side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, shit's getting serious, isn't it? by the way, look up 'strappado torture' it's what I was trying to imply on Aron... And please, leave a comment! I'd love to get feedback! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't read much about Jordon..."
> 
> ... Okay. :3
> 
> Jorel and George's malicious plan is revealed, yet no one can be trusted. Danny must either fight, escape, or die trying. (threesome in here watch out!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, one more chapter after this and the series is done, and I have to find something to do with my life... :( Long ass chapter, I apologize. But, it's juicy, I promise (hope) Enjoy!

Every article of clothing was on the floor. The small room blasted with the voice of Sully Erna. The bed was only suitable for a single being, never stopping anyone. 

Jordon found himself on his hands and knees, waiting in agonizing anticipation for Matthew’s probing cock. The intrusion only hurt slightly before murderous hands seeped into his skin and all he felt was pleasure. He moaned, gripping the sheets as Matt’s slender fingers moved around around to hold him down. When he at last entered without permission, Jordon emitted what could best be described as a squeak mixed with a moan.

Psychotic and dangerous hands held Jordon with steadiness, nails digging into his bare skin. He wanted to beg, though he couldn’t decide what for. Release of his hands tearing into him or for him to get it over with. Jordon had been Matt’s whore since he had come here two years ago… 

Bruises formed, and at last he picked up a brutal pace. Jordon could only curl his fingers and tear at the sheets, hiding his face inside. When it came to sex, Jordon seemed to hardly realize it was another person he was harming… then again, he never did. Dozens of people suffered at the hands of this killer. A cold-blooded killer with the warmth of an inner child seeking love. 

Apart from being aggressive, he was also easy. It took mere minutes for him to reach climax, leaning over to chew Jordon’s ear lobe whilst playing with his abused member. He couldn’t help but enjoy himself, shamelessly grinning as Matt stroked him. After a few final tugs, he shuddered orgasm, collapsing with the weight of Matt on top of him. 

Even through the silence, the walls whispered the pleads and whimpers of Aron right below them. Surely, he heard all of that, he had come accustomed to their episodes being not 3 feet away from them, and all he could do is ignore it, hoping it would be over soon. 

“Forgot how a good fuckin’ calms my nerves.” Matt smirked, biting harshly at Jordon’s shoulder blades. He erected himself, zipping his pants up. “Yeah, your killer fucking hands bruised me again!”   
“Get over it. I’ve done worse things to you, we all know that.”  
“Like ruin my life?”  
“Exactly. Although, now, I’m sparing you for the second time in your life from a bullet in the head. When Jorel finally snaps, we run. Find a place to salvage.”  
“Okay… it’s not like I have anywhere to go anymore…”

Matt’s face softened, and he sat next to his mate, brushing his saggy hair. “I’m sorry I killed them… If I had known…”  
“Save it, Matt. I know my parents weren't the best people, but they didn't deserve murder.”  
“I know, I know… but look at our relationship know. From predator’s prey to their partner. Their friend. We took a vow, right?” Jordon gulped, biting down on his lower lip. Matt terrorized Jordon for so long. He haunted his dreams even before he had officially met him… Matt took what was his, killing off his family for a fortune that hadn’t even existed yet. His parents sold away all of his and his sibling’s funds for selfish purposes. Not the most loving, but still not deserving to meet a cold fate so early. For a while, Jordon feared Matt, yet he owed him his life. He did spare him, after all. 

The two laid on the mattress, Matt exhausted from the day’s work. Jordon thought about Jorel’s orders from earlier: Nobody touch or speak to Aron until he confesses anything, and on that glorious day, Danny would avenge himself, and the death sentence for forever remaining a prisoner would be sealed.

“How long do you think Aron’s gonna survive?”  
“Ugh, fuck. Must you talk about another man in the bedroom? It’s rude.”  
“Matt, come on. Everyone knows your handiwork… shit, I hope he doesn't pass by the time Danny… you know.”  
“Murders the shit outta him? I can't fucking wait.” Matt rolled over, pulling Jordon on top of him. Without any extra room, all they could do was squish together. “I was ordered to keep him alive, and so, I will.”  
“Do you think Danny’s really capable of killing?”

“Mm…” Matt reached to turn their lamp off. “Sure, why not? He’s hit the bitch pretty hardcore before, one final blow will be easy. Think of all the anger and sorrow built up inside that poor kid: He’ll seems more than happy to end his life.” After a moment of silence, Matt chuckled in the darkness. “Man, if he ends up killing Jorel and taking his spot, I don't know if I’d be ready to follow that kid’s orders.”

Jordon shivered. It was true, though. Danny was slowly turning into a clone of Jorel.

+=+=+=+==

C sharp. C sharp. A, E, C sharp. Drop D.

It had been so many months since Danny had his hands on his guitar, strumming the afternoons away in the streets of Hollywood, sharing his soul with the people of his city. Even in those short months, he’s changed more than he had his entire lifetime. It was like the other him was dead now.

Sunrise was just around the corner. Daniel continued strumming away on the porch, softly singing to himself. The lyrics inside his book were relatively new, and he at last had the chance to search for a sweet melody to play along with. As the sun began to rise, the front door opened, shutting quietly behind a duo seeking an adventure. “That sounds amazing, Dan.” Jordon hummed politely, following Matthew to the car and driving away. 

“Hahh…. Ahhh…” C sharp. A, E. C sharp. “Someone left the door open… who left me outside? I’m bent, I’m not broken, come live in my life…” many times Danny’s music was positive and heartfelt, now it was broken and defeated, like himself.

“All the words left unspoken, all the pages I write… on my knees, and I’m hoping, that someone holds me tonight… hold me tonight…”

“I’ll hold you tonight.” 

A sudden voice caused a startled and sour note, Danny whipping his head around. Dylan laughed at him, taking a seat besides him, taking his notebook to have a look. “Still can't believe you write all of this. I could never be this creative.”  
“Thank you…” Danny paid little attention, eyes in awe at the sunrise pouring light over the horizon. With sadness, he set his guitar down, and softly began to sing again. 

“It’s times like this I feel I’m on the pavement, it’s like my heart’s so numb… then I grab that book and turn the pages, and see how far I’ve come.”

Dylan sighed, closing his eyes. He could listen to Danny sing for him forever. The boy may have changed dramatically, but there was still aspects of pure joy deep inside of him. Like the innocence of a child possessing is body, even if only for a moment, to enjoy ones like these. It was what Dylan had secretly admired for the longest time: sit outside on his own porch with someone to watch the sunrise for no reason other than vanity. 

“Danny… about your mom…”  
“Please, not now.”  
“I read your book.”  
“I know you do. It’s not polite to read someone’s thoughts like that.”  
“Listen, i didn’t mean to vandalize your… diary or whatever the fuck, but. You really gonna do it?”  
“Do what? Kill Aron? Fuck, if I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that--”  
“No, not that… your mom. You actually gonna do that? Whatever happened to letting her go?”

Danny fell silent, hiding his face. Through the newborn light of the sun, tear twinkled in his eye, threatening to drop down his face. “I… yes. I need to. She needs peace, and only I can give it to her… you’re not gonna tell Jorel, are you?”  
“No, of course not. Still, that’s uh… that’s fucked up. If you do decide to go through with that, I’ll be by your side, if you wish.”

Danny quickly grabbed the neck of his guitar, leaping up to head inside. At this hour, Jorel collected breakfast for himself, a bowl of leftover couscous from the night before, stretched his muscles in the sun. “Why look so glum? You should be excited, today may be the day. I sent those boys to run a little errand for me. When they return we will all go down and confront Aron. Ready?”

“I guess… yeah.” Eager to avenge, yet afraid of the burden. He wouldn't be able to kill Aron on behalf of just himself. This would essentially free Jorel of another mouth to feed. A traitor getting what was coming to him, waiting for his executioner. “What's gonna happen to him after?”

“Decomposition.” Jorel teased. “Among tossing his corpse in a shallow grave, left behind to be shredded for those who hunger…” Danny growled, opening the fridge to scavenge for food. “By the way, Daniel, I should praise you tremendously. You've come a long ass way in these short few months. Took these other rats much longer than that to even grasp a concept of being ruthless in the game of life… Your boyfriend hasn't even surccomed that easily… Maybe you outta teach him a thing or two instead.” 

Licking his lips, Jorel handed over his half eaten plate, most of the vegetables gone. “Do what you please down there. You've earned it. And more praise will come…” With a wink, the latter made his way to the bathroom to shower. Danny stared at the remaining plate of couscous. He hadn't eaten very much that week… Might as well not let it go to waste.

Another hour had passed. The sun guided early birds through the rush hour traffic in downtown Los Angeles. Jordon and Matt had finally returned, carrying what appeared to be a bloodied pillow case. “The fuck is in that? Ovaries?”  
“Could say that.” Matt smirked, pounding on Jorel's door.

Dylan looked more nervous than Danny did. “Hope you know what you're getting yourself into.”  
“Don't fucking start patronizing me, Dylan. Besides, if he doesn't confess today--”  
“Then you have another day to think this shit over! You don't wanna do this, Dan.”  
“You've killed men before, too.”  
“Yes… And it sealed my fate. I signed my life away to serve Jorel when my own family couldn't. I thought I had nowhere else, I didn't wanna be homeless. You have a choice. A family to return to. And yet, you chose to stay here? With the people that ruined your fucking life?”  
“You don't get It.”

“Yeah, you're right! I fucking don't get it! I don't get why you'd wanna stay here and never move forward rather than return to your life where you have a chance. Maybe I'm just fucking stupid for not ‘getting you’ so fucking sorry.”  
“I stay because of you, Dylan. And, because I realized I can't leave you in a state like this. For now, my purpose is relief a Burdon from Jorel's mind, and soon, kill that too.”

Dylan couldn't say anymore, and allowed Danny to walk away, marching down the stairs. Danny tried to keep a stern façade, pushing away any empathetic emotion. Hopefully this would be the day.

Everyone gathered to witness Aron's possible confession. Up to this point, he couldn't predict what his future held; Jorel demanded he stayed alive but for what? 

Last time Danny had seen Aron, he was standing, tied to the pole, screaming in agony after a blow to the shoulder. Now, he sat strapped to a chair. His filthy body quivered against the cold. the majority of his fingernails were missing, ripped from the flesh. His left ear was spilt, dried ooze clumped the wound. The room had an aroma of vomit, blood, and piss that nearly made everyone run away in illness themselves. 

“Aron Erlichman, what have I told you about snooping around my back?” Jorel engaged in his ‘I'm-such-a-badass-and-scary-leader’ mode and Danny couldn't help but get impatient. He had work to do.   
“Your fucking dirty games!” Aron spat, voice hoarse and rigid. “Run away like a fuckin coward! Cowards deserve the mud!”  
“Oh, you mean like you?”

George pushed passed with a strange device in his hands, it looked like some sort of eye doctor's helmet, or something a minor would wear that had a flashlight attached to the top. It was strapped around his head with little struggle. Small clamps with hooks attached to Arons eyelids, forcing them open. Danny couldn't understand…

As ridiculous as it looked, he could only imagine it's dark purposes. Across from Aron, a mirror was positioned angled perpendicular to his face, held up by a metal frame. Behind Aron, the sun shone through the basement small windows at just the right angle. it suddenly occurred to Danny what Matts intentions were. Do did Aron.

“Okay, Aron. Matt tells me about your drug operation. Stealing shit from Dylan's stash for yourself, hiding goods in a warehouse, the usual. Now… about your bomb..”

“No… Don't, please. It was canceled! I swear!”  
“Can't be sure unless we know 100% right? After All..” Jorel took the bag from Jordon, reaching his hand inside. With a smirk, he dumped the contents on the floor. A fresh, severed head bounced above the contents, rolling to Aron's feet. “Unfortunately, he wasn't very helpful to us… Pity…”

“Br-Brian…?! No… Please!” Danny swallowed. This was the head of Aron's right hand man. His lover, ‘Truth,’ had ran away, leaving Aron behind and brokenhearted. 

“You better fucking tell us where that bomb is.”  
“I don't even know! We weren't even finished manufacturing it by time-- guah!” Matt, from behind, held his head in place. George took a glass, reflecting the light outside onto the mirror while Jorel adjusted the angle to target his eyes. The small ray if light pierced his eye, and after a moment the sensitive skin began to react.

The eyelids sizzled, casting small ghostly waves of smoke flashed from his eyeball. Aron's body jerked, twitching against the restraint, struggling against Matt's hands forcing him in one spot. His eye was melting away, he could feel himself becoming nauseous, dizzy, slowly blinded.

“Come on, Big Deuce. Show us how brave you are… Or you could just tell us your devious little plan…?” Jorel moved to the other eye, though the effect didn't prove an influence like the other. “D-Dan…!”  
“Danny's house?”  
Aron violently shook his head ‘no’ crying out as Jorel reverted back to his right eye. The skin swelled up, the eyeball melted, and he was having a hard time finding the correct words. Matt suddenly covered his eye, giving Jorel a look. “Chill for a sec. This could easily kill him on extended amounts.”

Jorel aimed the mirror away, marching over to pinch Aron's chin like a child again. Danny felt sickened staring at that eye: the surrounding areas bubbled and throbbed. No doubt he lost sight in that eye, if the light didn't catch him, the infection would be enough to swell his cornea. “Th-the mans--”  
“Ragan Mansion?”  
Aron shook his head again. “D-Decker…”

Jorel's eyes narrowed. “You were going to plant a fucking bomb on my old residence? What the actual fuck is wrong with you…?”  
“Sorrow…” Aron responded, sighing in dismay. “Jorel, I'm not sorry for doing what I did… Someday, someone is gonna put a stop to you… And on that day, I want you to recall all the years you spent tormenting us, poisoning our minds.”

“The only thing I’ll remember about this day, is your pussy ass crying out for forgiveness as you take your last pathetic breath.” He turned, apparently satisfied, grinning at Danny. “Don't hold back…”

Fuck, this was it. Danny inhaled, searching for a possible way to take away Aron’s life in a more humane way. He slowly walked around Jordon and George, searching the counters. “My 9 millimeter is quite nice, if I may recommend.” Matt giggled.

Aron huffed. “So, Jorel. You’re just too damn scared to even finish me off yourself? And of course force poor young innocent Danny do your dirty work for you? Typical…”  
“Call it a kind act of a volunteer.” Jorel sneered back, impressed with Danny’s choice. “Stab him to death? Would you like us to untie him?”  
“Just… let me do this, please…”

Aron growled and spat at Danny as he came into view. “You are AFRAID! You’re scared shitless, and you try to act all fucking tough…” Aron’s mouth began to dribble blood. “He’ll kill ya… better be ready, Murillo… he’ll kill you and your mother!”  
“Shut up…” Danny didn't like his own prey being the talkative type. Only made him that much more unprepared.   
“Why don't you make me? Why the hesitation?” Danny blinked, pressing the blade’s tip against Aron’s throat. “Ah, good start, now just push.” Aron smirked. “Allow me to give you some motivation… When you first came, you were supposed to be mine… but of course Dylan convinced himself he was foolishly in love with you. It’s his fault you can't leave. All his fucking fault. He’s the true one holding you back… why didn’t I kill him when I had the chance…? I should’ve fucking--guh!”

The tip was pressed harder, piercing skin. Tears threatened Danny’s eyes. He brushed them away, and pulled the blade away. “He’s mine…” He held the blade in both hands, raising it above his head, aiming for Aron’s mouth. The blade penetrated his tongue, slicing through his bottom lip and gums, the tip poking beneath his throat. Blood sprayed Danny’s face, Aron’s mouth transforming into a fountain. 

It was half expected for Danny to run, as he did before. Instead, he twisted the handle, hardly flinching at the crunch. Aron was no more.

“Well, with that bomb fiasco finished, I think the only problem presented here is Vardan running around, although I’m positive he’s long gone.” Jorel pulled Danny away to allow Matt to collect Aron, removing the straps and tossing his corpse on the ground. “Dan, you wait in my room. I’ll be up in a second…” 

Dylan took Danny’s hand, gently leading him back up the stairs, Jordon trailing behind. “What do you suppose Jorel has to say to you?”  
“Who fucking knows. A congrats, I guess.” Jordon huffed, examining Jorel’s messy room. “You’re on his good list now, Dan. Be happy for that.”

The rest began to climb up the stairs, Matt held his bloody hands up to go wash. Jorel shooed him and Dylan away, shutting his door and locking it. “What are you going to do?”  
“Talk. I must thank you for your commitment… but Dan, if you force yourself on my bad side, you will not go alone. Sit.”

With a growl, Danny sat at the edge of the bed, George strolling around on the other side to remove his shoes and relax a bit. “Jorel, you don't have to make a big deal out of this. Everyone in this forsaken house has killed before.”  
“True, but this was a burden hidden from my eyes for the longest time. Not only have you relieved this home of a rat, a favor for not just me, but you have given yourself to service me.” Jorel also began to remove his shoes with an evil smirk. 

Danny suddenly felt George’s hand touch his shoulder from behind, making him jump. He began to turn his head to look when Jorel quickly crawled on top, pinning him down and trapping him.  “Surely you're not naïve enough to believe you’d walk out of here without this reward. You’ve left yourself completely defenseless against me.”

Jorel suckled beneath Danny’s ear, rutting against him. Danny merely closed his eyes, trying not to think about the situation too much. He would just have to accept this. He didn’t feel much pleasure, or even dismay. Just numbness. This was Jorel’s way of wrapping poor innocent boys around his fingers. ‘Your tricks can't fool me anymore, shapeshifter.’ 

Shit, why not enjoy it though? Danny scrunched Jorel’s shirt with his hands, never mind the fact that George was still inches away from him, undressing himself. Fuck, he’d never even thought about George in a sexual manner, now he was being forced to sleep with him, too?! Jorel practically ripped his shirt from his body, tearing at Danny’s clothing next. 

Before he knew it, Danny was stripped of everything while the others had the privilege of keeping their dignity spread all over. Every fabricated shred of self-respect drained from Danny as he bent over doggy-style, awaiting Jorel’s next unpredictable move. He suddenly felt Jorel rub against him from behind, slender hands exploring his body. He shoved two fingers in front of his face. “Suck.” He demanded.

Rather than bitch like he wanted, he complied, lubricated the digits with his tongue, softy letting out moans. He watched George crawl in front of him with a stone-face, rubbing himself right in front of his face. ‘Can you fucking not?’ Danny growled inside his mind. 

When Jorel at last decided it was enough, he retrieved his fingers, sliding his hands over to tease at Danny’s hole, pushing them in. He shivered at the pressure, squeaking like a teenage girl being pleasured. “Shit…”

Nevertheless, he was desperate for friction, making small efforts to press himself against Jorel’s fingers. He began to comply, maneuvering his fingers in and out, adding a third. A fourth. The pressure was unbearable. George caressed Danny’s face, fluttering his eyes open. “Suck.” He smirked, meaning to mimic Jorel’s demands.

There’s no way he could be that clean down there… Danny judged the organ like it was a fucking dish. Dylan wasn’t nearly as hairy down there. He never particularly cared about size, but George's was thicker than Dylan’s, though not longer. He just prayed he wouldn't be forced to swallow…

Danny’s tongue slowly peeked out though George was impatient, forcing himself forward, twisting his fingers in Danny’s hair. It was inescapable. Danny’s lips lunged at the foreign object, and he shut his eyes again. Hopefully his mouth knew what to do. 

Yanked from his thoughts, Jorel started adding his last finger inside, curling them into a ball. Danny squealed and jumped, being held in place by these bruts. “No, Danny, stay still like a good boy.” Jorel smirked, and continued his assault on Danny’s ass. He worked his entire fist inside that narrow  hole, pumping it slowly. “Think that’s bad? Wait for me to be inside you…”

‘An Asian man could do better than you…’ Danny scowled inside his mind, digging nails into the mattress. George did majority of the work so far, trusting in and out of his mouth. Eventually, the two men became in sync, teeter tottering Danny. Jorel would thrust in, George thrusted out. Jorel pulled back, George pushed forward. 

The pain was unbearable, though he had been through worse things. At last, Jorel removed his fist, carelessly wiping it on the bed and lining up. The relief was short lived, and he pressed his entrance, leaning over to whisper quietly, “Ready for your reward?”

The true reward to Danny would be for this to fucking end. Disturbed by his hands, Jorel plunged in, hissing, resisting his own sin of releasing any noise of pleasure. His muscles tensed up to accept Jorel once again, propelling Danny further into George’s cock. “He’s tighter than a sports car, hey, Georgie?”

‘Please, don't start talking now…’ Danny hated this, trying his hardest to imagine some sort of fantasy… Dylan was the only man he had been in a decent relationship with, dating or not. He only fucked one girl, and that was disastrous. So, two Dylans could be fucking him? No, that’s dumb. Dylan and some crush…? Danny always admired this one guy named---

Jorel’s hand suddenly started rubbing against his cock, harshly plucking at it. The pressure began to build up and Danny could feel his body react. Pleasure tingled in his spine, his stomach began to twist, and worse, he could taste the salt from George’s seed without warning. 

Tears swelled his eyes in shock, and he coughed it out, forcing his shoulders to fail, falling face first on the bed. Jorel took advantage of his new position, pulling him even closer. “Fu-fucking Danny... Fuck!”

George raised a brow, surprised. He watched Jorel’s face expression twist to desire, dreamily closing his eyes. He was enjoying himself more than he had the last time he fucked George, that’s for sure. 

At last, Jorel finished, Danny moaning at the sudden hot mess that filled his ass. He shoved Danny over, laying down next to him. They laid on either side of Danny, catching their breath. George pulled a blanket over himself and Danny, earning a glare from Jorel. “Hey, I’m cold too, ya know?”  
“Then get your own blanket? There’s plenty.”  
‘Fuck you. Change places, lay with me.”  
“Um…” George gestured at Danny, whose eyes were closed, chest slowly rising and falling. “He’s probably asleep. Just, scoot him over.” 

George dragged Danny to the edge of the bed, allowing Jorel to scoot over. Danny was half conscious, the sudden movement jerked him back, but soon he passed out in their bed.

A mere ten minutes passed and he started to wake. He hugged the pillow, the locked bedroom door being the first thing he saw. He could feel someone’s body against his back, presumably Jorels, and soft whispering voices.

“--We would have to pack lightly, though.” He heard George declare. “If we’re relying on a quick getaway, we can't just pack everything in sight.”  
“Yes, but we have the entire back seat and trunk to load with things we need, George.”  
“The truck is going to be full of the guns and ammo, Jorel. I already have the chest in there.”

What in the fuck were they talking about? Danny remained still, cautious eyes shifted in case one of them were to walk over and see he was really awake and eavesdropping. “I say we pack a bag each, alright? Clothes and shit. Maybe enough food for the trip.”

Some sort of trip, huh? Danny recalled the word ‘getaway’ so this wasn’t to be taken lightly. He remembered Aron mentioning that they had some devious plan they were going to hatch soon: Abandon the gang, or even murder them, and taking off. Where were they even going? He continued to listen. 

“It’s a fucking 3 day trip by car… We can always stop. Set aside some cash for that. What else?”  
“I vote we send everyone out, then take off.”  
“Too suspicious.” Jorel sighed. “We send some, not all. Matt doesn’t do drugs, neither does Jordon, you know that. We send Danny and Dylan out on a run, maybe we can get Matt to search for Varden… as for Jordon I don't know.”  
“Kill him.”

Danny felt a shiver strike his spine. It was true. They were leaving, hardly caring about this gang surviving or not. “Jordon’s a fucking waste of air anyways. He’s only here because Matt will go ape-shit without him. Fuck, that bastard killed the majority of his family and he still sticks around like a retard.”

“Even if I did kill Jordon, you know the rest would be hot on our trail…. We should just kill everyone. Fuck it, let’s kill everyone.” Jorel laughed a little. Danny didn’t take that as a joke. He felt George sit on the bed, and he quickly shut his eyes, afraid to open them again. “My father’s house. We tell them we went there. They don't expect us to be back until morning anyways, so why would they suspect we ever even left?”

Jorel glared at Danny for a few seconds. He touched he boy’s arm, the contact nearly making him jump, revealing him. “If it comes to it, and we have to murder all of them, then so be it. For this to work, we can't have distractions. We need to be far away from here in the span of only 3 days, we have to cover our tracks somehow, anyways… we’ll talk more tomorrow. This time next week, we’re fucking leaving.”

George nodded, opening the door. Danny dared not to even twitch in the slightest. “Dylan!” he heard Jorel holler. “Come get your swain! Take him to your room, now!” Jorel quickly got up, gathering Danny’s clothes. Dan opened one eye, seeing Dylan’s door open in the distance, him approaching in the hall. 

Never had Danny been so happy to see him. Which was truly strange to him… When they first became acquainted, Dylan took him to the basement and molested him. Now, he was yearning for his touch every day like a spouse coming home from a long day at work, running to their partner’s arms for intimate comfort.

He continued to fake sleep, feeling himself slip into Dylan’s arms. Danny reached to hang on around his neck, being carried bridal style to his bed, being gently placed to the familiarity of the sheets he laid in every night.

“Shit, Danny.” Dylan softly sighed, closing the door.   
“I’m fine, Dylan. I’m not actually sleeping… what time is it?” Danny stretched his arms to the ceiling, meeting eyes with the Mexican. ‘What is it? You look pissed.”  
“Oh, me? No, Daniel. Everything is fucking fine. I love it when Jorel just takes whatever he wants, fucks whomever he wants.”  
“Hey, I wasn’t exactly having the time of my life, ya know? I just--”  
“I heard you well from in here, Dan! You sounded like you were.”

“Oh sure! I love it when I’m forced into a threesome with two men who just--”  
“Jorel’s trapping you into that shit by offering sexual favors, you know? Why do you think Aron was always happy about getting rammed in the ass by him? Means you did something right. Murder is not that glamorous, is it now?”

Danny sat back down, shrinking. “Dylan… I did it mostly for myself, you know? He was an ass, anyways?”  
“Sure, that makes it all better.”  
“You’re one to talk anyways! You act like you’re in love with me. You molested me! Kept me prisoner… you tortured me. Tortured me!”  
“I’m… I'm sorry, alright? It was my job to keep you isolated and quaking in fear, but… listen, now you’re more than just a fucking mission to me, alright? I wasn’t planning on getting attached, but...but…”  
“But what?” Dylan started to softly smile, maneuvering a hand to brush Danny’s hair. His lips hovered over Danny’s with a sigh. “Dan, I just--”

A knock on the door. Dylan jumped, putting a finger to his lips in fear it was Jorel eavesdropping. “Dylan, your pants up?” It was Jordon. “We gotta talk to you.”  
“What the everloving fuck…” Dylan groaned, opening the door. Fuck, Matt was there, too. “We’re coming in. Jorel and George left to drop some shit off. Now that we’re alone, we have to come up with a plan.”

“Plan?” Dylan shut the door, locking it. “What sort of plan?”  
“Jorel and George--” Matt began, pulling a paper from the back of his jeans. “They ride out of the city soon.”  
“Yes, yes! In a week!” Danny piped up. All eyes on him, concerned. “A week? Really?”  
“That’s what they said… I just heard them talking about packing shit up and getting out of here in a week from today. If we get in the way of their plans, we’re all gonna end up dead… They thought about sending us away so they can cover their tracks…”

“Then there’s no denying it. Aron was right about a malicious plan between those two!” Dylan growled, shaking his head.  
“Oh, there’s more, ladies.” Matt set the paper on the bed, everyone leaned in to inspect. It looked like a blueprint of some sort. “Those papers Danny recovered… Jorel’s records. All of them. We all knew it was basic information, but Aron’s revealed more to me than what meets the eye. Jorel demanded I shared any information with him that Aron spit at me… I haven’t mentioned this to him, so you all must be quiet about it. This is important. We’re sworn to secrecy men, right?”

Everyone first looked around concerned, then nodded in unison. 

“Aron’s group, 9Lives, has been secretly plotting against Jorel for almost two years. When Jorel found out he could find his files on school properties, Aron has tried several times to prevent that. Those records aren’t just basics… they’re detailed inscriptions on when Jorel was hospitalized years ago. Now, he caused the house fire that killed his whole family, there’s no denying that. He’s admitted it himself. But we’ve barely scratched the surface there. Shortly after the discovery of the Decker’s residence burning down, he was the sole survivor. He was institutionalized in a mental hospital. He’s not just a controlling, bloodthirsty bastard, he’s a schizophrenic. He’s had mental issues since that fire, and it’s backfired on him, not getting the proper treatment. Eventually he escaped somehow, and he’s been wandering the streets looking for salvation. He found George… and, found us. Since he’s wanted for not only criminal activity, but his escape from the asylum. Those papers were held by a school psychiatrist who worked with the hospital while he was young. Don't you get it? With these files, he can finally escape his life! Who knows where he’s gonna be running off to?”

Danny was numb. Jorel was an insane asylum patient, hospitalized for burning his house to the ground and escaped. He hid in the shadows with George, forming this group and taking control, his soul objective to retrieve his files back to relieve himself of possibly going back. It was all an act of running away forever, and he was willing to do anything to get there. 

“We can't let this go on.” Dylan decided. “We have to fucking stop this guy!”  
“What are we gonna do, genius? Call the police? We’ll be sent away, too. I’m a serial killer, you’re a drug dealer, Danny’s… a deranged criminal.” Matt took a moment to giggle. “And Jordon… you’re hopeless. Also, what did I tell you? Jordy and I have plans of our own to get the fuck out of Dodge, too. You two should as well.”

“We don't have anywhere to go.” Dylan sighed, looking over at Danny, who stared blankly at the ground in deep thought. “I’d love more than anything to take Danny away, but to where? My pops doesn’t want me anymore… where you guys even going?”  
“Anywhere but here. Again, you should do that, too. Jorel clearly won't give two shits if all his problems just vanished. He wants to run away like a fucking coward, take all the money WE earned and salvage? Fine. I say we stash some of our own… we have thousands in the house. Take some. We need to protect ourselves from the demon, now.”

Danny bit his lip, soft eyes catching Dylan’s. “Dylan… we need to get out of here.”  
“I know we do.”  
“Then… it’s settled. We all leave, right? For now, be cautious of Jorel. And Nobody is to breathe a word about this, got it?” Matt smirked, pulling Jordon towards the door to their own room. “Hell, Danny could even take down Jorel if he really wanted to. He could be next in line as a tremendous leader.” the door shut behind him, and Dylan itched.

“Dylan, we can survive the streets no big deal, you know that.”  
“Not what I’m worried about. You deserve better than to shiver under a bridge every night.”  
“We’ll shiver together. Shit, if we can find another place like this abandoned piece of shit, we’ll be fine. Please, let’s just get to bed. I’m actually tired.”   
“No fuck tonight?” Dylan snickered, playfully slapping Danny’s ass. They crawled in the bed together, fluttering against the cold air. It was such a chilly evening, ignored by the two desperate to get warm against each other.

“Dylan… Before we leave, there’s one thing I have to take care of.”   
“Hmm? What is that?”  
“It about my mom.”

+=+=+=+=+=+

“Time is running out…”  
“They haven’t even hinted that.”  
“Could happen sooner than we think.”  
“We have three days left, we have to keep quiet. Now just, touch me.”

Danny sat atop Dylan’s lap on the couch, heavily colliding lips and slowly grinding himself against him. Dylan moaned out, fingers raked Danny’s’ back, pulling down the shoulders of his hoodie while he yanked at Dylan’s hair. He had a plan to exterminate Jorel’s plan once and for all, all they had to do was wait. Dylan was constantly worrying about the situation, scared for his life.

“You put too much faith into Matt, Danny.” Dylan mumbled, sliding his hands down the latter’s pants. “Don’t forget he’s killed over 25 men alone.”  
“Your point?”  
“Point being: jorel’s not the only person we should be worrying about. Matt could easily snap and murder us as well. He’s gonna do anything to keep him and Jordon safe, remember that.” Danny shrugged, peering outside the window behind Dylan’s head. Matt had began a giant fire pit half an hour ago, and was now dragging Aron’s corpse. 

Uncomfortable, Danny suspended himself from Dylan’s lap, refusing to watch Aron be tossed in like a chicken roast ready to be cooked. “Yeah, he’s a dangerous man, but I think he has better intentions than to kill us. If anything, he would attempt Jorel instead.”

“Pffth. You don't know him, Danny. Not like I do. Corner him and you will get bitten. It’s his nature, really.”  
“Well…” the duo looked in unison outside again. Matt scooped up Aron, body-slamming him into the pit. The flames combusted in brilliant shades of red and blue, flaring up towards the sky nearly shooting at Matt. A spit of flame tossed on Matt’s shoulder, merely brushing it off like dirt. “The old saying goes, Dylan. Keep your friends close, and the enemy closer.”

“You’re fucking nuts!” He laughed, cringing at the sight outside.   
“Perhaps, but listen. Keep Matthew on our good side, we won't have to worry about any malicious intent. If anything, we can help each other, instead.”

The door slammed open, the king strolling in carrying a large shopping bag. Disgusted, he kicked the door closed with his foot. “Either get a room or join a gym, fuck.”  
“Boss, what’s with the shopping? Buy one get one free this week?” Dylan pushed Danny away, watching Jorel unload the grocery bag. Non Perishable foods, ramen packages, chips and shit flooded the bag. “Well, we’re running out of a lot of shit. Unless you wanna go hunt your own food like a fucking savage, go for it.”

Dylan gave Danny a look. “Well, I’m gonna retire… otherwise can't get up on time. Got shit to do tomorrow.”  
“Right. I’ll join you soon.” Danny collected his notebooks, another glance outside, and followed Dylan to the room.

Closing the door, Dylan laid back on the bed, Danny crawling on top of him. “What is it?”  
“Tonight’s the night, isn’t it? He got food for his little trip. It’s here, Danny, isn't it?”  
“I was thinking the same shit… He’s making us go on a drug run tonight, not much supplies, though, to get rid of us for the night. As for Matt and Jordon, I’m not so sure…”

“Yeah… so, what’s the plan? You said you had one.”  
“Take our bags, maybe. If we come back and he’s already gone, would it matter if we took them with us? We could have the house for ourselves.”  
“Nah, he wouldn’t let us off the hook that easily, though.” Danny sighed, situating his head on Dylan’s chest. He could feel the Mexican’s hand pat his hair with a wheeze.

Two hours had passed, the couple passed out from an unexpected nap promptly awoken by a knock on their door. Jordon barged in without further invitation, shaking Danny first. “Guys, wake the fuck up! Come on, Jorel wants to see you!”  
“Nnng… tell him to wait!”  
“You can tell me yourself.” Danny jerked, hearing Jorel’s irate voice. “Get up, both of you. You’re going to an address for a certain diamond ring, then sell the what’s left in the duffle bag on the table, alright?.” With that, he quickly left. 

Jordon leaped at Danny, rushing words in a harsh whisper. “It might happen tonight… don't sleep too soundly.”  
“So, he’s trying to get us out of the house…”  
“Chill, Dylan. We’re gonna be fine. Tonight is perfect, though. I still have to take care of something with my mom.”  
“I still don't understand? You said in your book…”  
“I know, I know. But, I have to.”  
“What are you even going to do?” Jordon was confused, being ignored while Danny also looked for his jacket. 

“None of your concern. Come on, Dylan. If he wants us to leave so badly, so be it.”

On the road in minutes with Dylan at the wheel, Matt watched them leave, hindering a warning. “Don't be too long, guys. Do what you have to do with your mum, and get your asses back here so we can fucking get out of here!”  
“Trust me, Matthew. It won't take long…”

Over an hour of selling on the street, there was one last stop to make on a sworn verge of secrecy. Danny’s home looked much more gray than he remembered. The light was on, the time reading nearly midnight. “I’m staying in the car.” Dylan sighed. “Quick getaway, yaknow? What are you going to do? You never told me…”  
“No time to explain… just let me do what I came to do, please.” Danny excused himself, taking his guitar and the key from his pocket he saved so long ago, and unlocked the door.

His mother was sitting comfortably on the armchair, book in hand, softly snoozing. How different he would look to her; his hair was cut shorter, he was dirtier, meaner looking. He was a gangster. A common thief. A criminal. A drug dealer. Everything his mother advised against. She raised him right to follow his dreams and be kind to his fellow human. 

Leaning down, he lowered his guitar to the floor, and touched his mother’s hand. “Mom…” He whispered. “Mom, it’s me. Wake up.” Her eyes fluttered, drowsy from the soft lighting. “Rigo? That you?”  
“No, mom. It's me, Danny.” her eyes widened in fright and excitement. “D-Daniel?! Danny…” Her hand shakily reached out, as if he were some sort of apparition. “That can't be you.”

“It is me, mom. I’m alive, I’m real.” He squeezed her frigid hand, kissing it like a nobleman to a queen.   
“Honey… we all thought you were dead! We held a memorial for you…”  
“Really? Imagine…”  
“And you were all over the news! You’re wanted for--”  
“Mom, please. I’d rather you not mention that… I really wanted to visit and express love and regret, not discuss shit like that. I have something important to say…”

Dylan sat alone in the car, the stereo hummed a song about losing a loved one. Danny was gone 3 minutes now… This was going to be the last time he ever saw her. He kept the window rolled down in case Danny yelled for him suddenly.

“Danny, you can't leave me again… you’re alive now, just stay with me! I’ll keep you here, no one needs to know.” Danny only smiled, looking down at his guitar. “Is it too late to apologize?”  
“What do you me--”  
“Mom… would you like me to play you a song?”

From the car, Dylan suddenly heard Danny begin to play his strings, the music strikingly similar to one he had heard before… When Danny sang it, it made him feel very sad. It was about confession, finding yourself, ending yourself after all the fight you’ve put yourself through, prompting those you love to not even bother saving you. He couldn’t quite hear Danny sing it, though Dylan found himself mumbling the lyrics to himself.

‘I stay away from… this pain I came from… can't run away from what’s been said and done. With all these days gone, been fighting so long, I can't break away from it all… Don't even try to save me tonight, ‘cause I don't know… no, I don't know… but here I go…’

All of the sudden, the song ended after it's near four minutes. Dylan peered in the window, the drapes of course blocking any view, so how stupid of him to try to see anything. 

Then, a gunshot from inside the house.

The noise made Dylan jump, anchoring his hands to the steering wheel. Breath hitched, he started the engine again, awaiting Danny’s return. He hardly looked at him when he hopped in, tossing his guitar in the back. “Drive.”

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

The house was dead silent when they returned. Dylan set the bag on the counter, mindlessly checking the fridge for nothing in particular. “Two days.”  
“I don't know… Jordon said it could happen sooner. Maybe we should stay up?”  
“Fuck that. I’m going to bed in a few minutes. I hope you join me…” Dylan stared at Danny through the light of the refigerator. “Dan? Can I ask you something?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Why’d… why’d you do that? You killed her… how?”

“You asked me why, not how.” Danny shot him a warning stare.  
“Doesn't fucking matter!” Dylan whisper-yelled. “How could you do such a thing?”  
“Detachment… from the world I used to have. Now, I truly don't have anything to go back to.”

Dylan’s jaw nearly hit the ground in awe. “You… you fucking killed her in cold blood for… for detachment?! To stitch yourself closer to being a ruthless fucking--”  
“Shut the fuck up! I wanted this… there’s no turning back now.”  
“What about all that talk? You said-- you said you wanted her to live on in peace, without you! An you fucking killed her! You fucking took away an innocent life and you didn't even have the influence of Jorel… shit, you’re no better than he is.”

Danny scrunched, pulling back his enclosed fist and firing at Dylan’s face, socking him in the jaw. The Mexican ached, moaning subtlety. “Danny… what have you even become…?”

The latter couldn’t answer. What had he become…? The question struck him like a stake to the heart. He became so numb he barely noticed Dylan push past him, locking himself in their room to find sleep elsewhere. Danny took shelter on the couch, curling up in a ball to shiver in the night, struggling to agree to a suitable thought to drift asleep to.

Eventually, the drowsiness, the tears, drowned Danny to a half-sleep. In the dead of the night, he heard noises stir from the back of the house, like giants making attempts to tip-toe through the home.

“The fuck..?!” Danny lifted his head, peering through darkness. He could see figures as his eyes adjusted, carrying duffle bags and hauling a chest out the front door. Jorel… George!”

Jorel came in for a final time, Danny quickly going limp to fool him he was still in a slumber. He could sense Jorel inches away from him. “Don't get too, too comfortable, boy. Consider yourself lucky.” he heard him chuckle, and a few moments later, the door shut closed, and the engine outside started.

“Fuck… Dylan! Matt! Everyone, wake up!” He hollered as loud as he could down the all, kicking the walls a few times with his toe. “They’re escaping! Wake up, they’ll get away!” 

Near the door stood a metal bat, finding itself in the hands of Murillo. He wouldn’t allow Jorel to leave… alive. He raced out, finding that Jorel hadn’t even gotten inside yet. “Jorel! You bastard!”  
“Daniel? Dan! Fuck!” Jorel scampered through a duffle bag as Danny raced towards him, swinging the bat against Jorel’s leg to knock him down. Jorel hooted in pain, pulling out a revolver. “Fuck off! Or I’ll shoot.”  
“Do it! You can't take anything else from me now, you sick fuck! All I’ve got is my life! Wanna steal that, too?”  
“Danny! Get down!” he heard Jordon’s voice from the house, glancing for only a moment. 

Jorel clicked his gun, aiming first for Danny. Jordon, less than a foot away, hauled Danny back, tossing him to the ground. The bullet penetrated his arm, screaming in agony. Jorel growled, getting to his feet and firing at Jordon again, blowing a wasted bullet, missing by an inch.

Matt and Dylan were in the doorway, shocked to see what had happened. “FUCKER!” Matt screamed. Jorel looked afraid, backing away. George, on guard to the side, shielded Jorel, sprinting at the psychopath and tackling him to the ground. 

Dylan watched them fight, frantically searching for a solution. “Fuck.. Danny, move!” Without thinking, he darted towards him, seemingly forgetting about the weapon Jorel possessed. “Dylan!” Danny watched him slowly fall to the ground, clenching his leg. 

Kicking Jordon out of the way, Jorel took aim at Dylan. Danny quickly threw himself on the man, reaching for the gun, tossing it out of sight. With no gun, Jorel swiftly reached for his knife, pinned down by Danny. “Fucking surrender!”  
“I will send you to hell, Danny!” 

Danny and Jorel rolled on the ground, throwing punches and thrusting kicks. Danny’s tactics were useless. He had such little experience fighting, especially against an expert. He was losing. 

Pinned down, Danny began to see stars, dizzy from the several blows to the head. “D-Dill…”   
‘Yeah, that’s right… call to your baby daddy. Too bad he’s a bitch rolling like Peter Griffin over there... “ Jorel pressed the tip of the knife against Danny’s throat with an ugly grin. “Too bad, Murillo… I was going to spare you. You were my favorite, after all… my personal clone. You’d make one badass leader, if only you had the fucking skill.”

Danny squealed out, blood rushing to the forming wound on his neck. As fast as Jorel began to penetrate, it suddenly ended. Jorel was yanked back by force by some unknown rescuer.

Danny huffed, clasping his wound, searching for his savior. Dylan had somehow brought himself to stand, tackling Jorel to throw punches. Jordon was also up, doing his best to assist in the battle against George. Matt was progressing, through he looked terribly injured. 

George growled at Matt, taking him by the scruff of the shirt, hand reaching down to grab his groin. With immense strength, he lifted him in the air, body-slamming him on the concrete steps of the porch. Matt hit his head hard, his spine ached against the stairs. He groaned with pain, slowly closing his eyes.

Jordon was helpless against George, tripping over his own two legs. Danny could hardly get up himself. Dylan was thrown to the ground limp… 

George held Jorel from behind, trapping him in between his arm. Jordon gasped for air, looking up at his leader. “J-Jor-- augh! P-plea!”  
“You shouldn’t fuck with me, Jordon. Prepare to rejoin your family…”

Danny winced. George flexed his arm, holding Jordon’s jaw in place. The crack from Jordon’s neck forced even Jorel to cringe. George snapped his neck, tossing his lifeless body to the side. Jordon was dead. And everyone, including Matt, saw it all.

Danny remained on the ground, watching the duo return to their car with pride and speed off. Shortly after, Matt got to his feet, remarkably. He had to have broken something from that… He watched Matt as he quickly sped off into the woods in the dead of the night. Moments after that, everything for Danny went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you shit went down. Aron finally died. Plot twists. Revealed secrets. Unexpected events. How sad is it that there's one more chapter left? Also, that battle probably sucked... it was better inside my head XD   
> please, leave a comment! (I'll shut up now.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter in the series. May everyone finally find some sort of serenity, as well as certain answers to questions they yearned to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, can you believe this is it, guys? Bummer. I really enjoyed writing this series. At the beginning, not only did I think it would be such a successor, but so much has changed in the story than the original idea. But, all worked out! :3   
> Please, enjoy! <3

According to Socrates, death may be the greatest of all human blessings.

Of course, he would probably refer to an end of the painful state of mind that is life. That is what it was like… a torturous state of mind. Afterall, a life without suffering and experience is no life at all.

Dylan wished he would die right then and there. If there was a god, he was laughing at him. Had He come down to take him away, he would ask why the fuck he allowed this all to happen. A sermon for a man with no face.

The bullet lodged in Dylan’s thigh was probably infectious by now. The sun was at its peak now, the wind a steady, stern whisper. For a moment, Dylan wondered if getting up was worth it. He looked over at Jordon’s lifeless body first. His eyes remained wide open, a dried tear on his right cheek. Strange, he didn't have his ring on… his father gave him a titanium rings years ago, one of his earthly possessions from home. Probably inside. 

Danny was still on the ground Crusty brown blood clinged to the fibers of his throat. Jorel penetrated just enough to send his mind into shock, too dizzy to tell the difference. It wasn't even the bullet in Dylan’s leg that knocked him out; he vaguely remembered George pounding his head with the back of his elbow, casting him aside. He hit his head, and couldn’t remember much after that. 

By the looks of it, they got away successfully. Danny could be dead, for all he knew. Matt disappeared, though his fate was unknown in the woods, even if you are a master killer yourself, he’s got nothing if he comes across a Californian bear. Jordon met with an untimely fate, Matt vanished, and then the rest abandoned.

Should’ve seen this coming. Jorel stole much worse things than objects. Taking another one’s life, even those you are closest with, was not something to brush off with him.

Dylan limped to his mate. He was still breathing at least. His nose bled, knots on his head, and his humorous stuck out… that can't be good. Dylan mustered up all the strength his body could bare, not enough to get him into his arms, and dragged him inside the house, lifting him just enough to set him on the couch. Must look after himself, first. Dylan removed his pants, using a pair of pliers to remove the bullet. Wait… The fuck? 

Rubber bullets. Jorel used rubber bullets. Why though? It seemed so damn arbitrary, coming from someone who was so set on killing others. For now, Dylan accepted the blessing. If it was a real bullet, he may not have remained alive. It explains how he was so easily influenced to fight rather than bleed out. Maybe Jorel wanted this huge fight, after all. An episode of violence before his grand escape to make him feel like a hero. Why would he deliberately do that though? And he still had Jordon killed! Dylan saw George snap his neck, his soul gone before his body hit the floor.

Nothing was making sense. Rubber bullets? Why not real ones? What was Jorel indicating? Hiding? What statement was he trying to ensure? What was the real motive? Dylan mumbled inaudible words to himself, sewing the hole and bandaging himself. 

Danny was stirring, like he was having a terrible dream. The real nightmare resides when he wakes up. What will they do now? Matt could easily come back for revenge. Jorel and George… fuck, with them, you never know. Maybe Dylan could leave and be with his family. He glanced at the door.

It would’ve been so easy. So FUCKING easy. He had a car of his own, the keys were in his room. Danny was knocked out. Everyone else was gone. His pops could maybe find it in his heart to take his son back. 

_”You want to become a rapper, and now you bail out on this family to live with a group of criminals because why?”_  
“Dad, they are not criminals! They’re just… lost souls.”  
“You’re a lost cause, you know that? All I ever wanted was for you and your sister to be successful by my side, but I guess you wouldn’t know what hard work is. Go on, run away. Leave me, like the coward you really are. I won't be here when you come back. You are a fucking mistake. I wanted a son to stay in my shadow, not run away like a little bitch. You are going to die out there. You're useless!” 

One slap and he ran. Ran back to Jorel… he said he could fix his problem. He encouraged him to run away. It was all because of him. Sure, Dylan would never want to be at his father’s side in that kind of line of business, but he could at least have a place to call home. Now it was too late. He couldn’t go back like this, no matter how much he begged for his father’s love.

It would’ve been so easy. Drive away, leave this singer behind. He reminded Dylan of himself, in a way, a lonely soul casted away, with dreams of being in the music industry. Then Jorel came along. Turned them into criminals. Turned Danny into a monster.

It took a while for Danny to actually wake up. When he did, Dylan was nowhere to be found. Not in the bedroom, downstairs, or outside. His car was gone, along with Jordon’s body, which was found lying peacefully in his bed as if he was in a deep slumber. Danny began to worry if Dylan had actually left him, until he came home at 2 in the morning. 

“Where the fuck have you been?!”  
“Don't even start yelling at me, because I am just as pissed as you.”  
“Pissed? Are you even remotely as concerned as I was? I thought something bad had happened to you. Or if you.. If…”  
“If I abandoned you?” Dylan scoffed, shaking his head. He set down a grocery bag on the contour, turning on the light. “I was going to see my pops… ask him if he would ever consider forgiving me, letting me back into his life.”  
“And?”

Dylan scrunched his nose, suddenly firing a chair across the room, breaking into a fit of childish laughter. “Not so uh, good.” he breathlessly giggled, wiping his nose. “I’m just that reprehensible, I guess… that’s what he called me. A useless piece of shit. Maybe I am. Maybe that’s why he casted me aside, just because I wanted to follow my dreams and not stay in the fucking family business.”

Danny stayed silent, biting his tongue. He allowed Dylan to have his fit. He went back to his father… if he had let him back into his home, that would be the last of Dylan. He would’ve left him here to wither away.

“Jorel is gone.” he changed the subject.  
“Pffth, yeah. Among other things… Matt fucking ran away. Jordon is…” Dylan nearly forgot about the stiff porcelain doll laying in his bed down the hall. “What do we do now, then? Jorel’s not the only threat, I told you that! There’s a serial killer on the loose now, he could lose his fucking shit and come finish the job.”

“We’ll be ready.” Danny simply said, picking up the diseased chair. Trash, now. Wouldn't matter considering there were only 2 occupants now. Dylan was right though; what if Matt suddenly snapped and tried to come back to kill them? Or come back for his lover’s body.

“I think for now, we should lay Jordon in a more restful place.”  
“Bury him?” Danny nodded, gesturing outside. “There, underneath that one tree would be pleasant. We can lay oleander and roses with him. I just feel it would best be left as that. A respect thing for a fallen friend.”

Dylan sighed, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right… Jordon’s been through enough. I hope he finds peace with whatever it was he was wrestling. I hope he found his family.” Danny swallowed.

Years ago, Matt just happened to come across the perfect house. The Terrell’s apparently had cash stacked in a family safe, which was only true long ago. They selfishly spent it on themselves, salvaging only a little for their children. Greedy, yes, but not so abusive. His childhood was just normal, until that one day he had the call that a burglar broke in to find that non-existent fortune, and his parents were dead. Matt somehow found Jordon, hoping he would have it, since his brother Jake didn't. He was all he had left, and he took him away too. Rather than slay him as well, Matt took pity on this baby-faced man, inviting him to be with him at a small little farmhouse with his roommates… Underneath it all, it was Jorel. Jorel sent him to retrieve that fortune. He ordered him to kill all those people for money. Matt didn't have to save him. But he did.

They laid him underneath an old sycamore a few feet into the woods, wrapped in a fresh sheet. For sentimental purposes, he was buried with Matt’s drumsticks in his hands, along with his favorite sunglasses and bandana he loved to wear. Danny tossed oleanders on his grave. A symbolism of what happened. Such a beautiful flower that brought devastation. 

For now, it was decided to remain put until they could even figure out what the fuck to do. They cleaned the house, sealing off the door to Jorel’s room. They salvaged any remaining drug that could be found, hidden in the cracks, in secret compartments, cut inside books. Dylan always kept a 9mm handgun inside the carved pages in a copy of ‘Middlemarch’ behind his underwear. “What is this, prison?” Danny joked.

“For a while, it was. When i first came here it was a cautious time, as any other. Jorel kept me locked in my room for days without food, and before then i didn't even have a bed. I sneaked away this gun not long after. Told Jorel I lost it on a run, I took the beating for losing it, but I needed a way to protect myself against everyone around me.”

“Well, we have barely enough to scrape a few hundred… we have to figure out what the hell we’re gonna do until then.”  
“If I can make hallucinogens with him, I can do it without. We’ll create more from this… we’ll have to buy from the streets to make something stronger.” Danny let Dylan do his dirty work, he didn't know what to do when it came with mixing anything. Dylan was the mastermind.

It was another month. So far so good. The duo had been playing in subtle fear, yet it was more peaceful than ever. Danny’s nerves were a constant wreck and it was difficult to manage at times. Dylan wondered at times how either would recover. 

“Maybe we’re safe, after all. We can live like some married couple in a house on a hill.”  
“A house with mice, holes in the walls, and dirty water? Yeah, that’s a dream.” 

Danny shook his head, nuzzling inside the furry of Dylan’s chest. “I’m cold as fuck.” The latter laughed, lightly shoving him off. “Under three blankets? “  
“Warm me up.”  
“Alright, clingy, come ‘ere.” Danny smirked, maneuvering himself over Dylan’s body, his legs spread on each side. He softly nibbled on his lower jaw, grinding himself against him.

“Dan, this is your idea of trying to get warm?” Dylan snickered, hands at his sides.   
“If you let me fuck you until I sweat I’ll be heated enough. Spread your legs.”

Reckless, Danny often thought. Nearly a year ago, this man practically kidnapped him, tortured him, raped him in a disgusting basement, and hung him from the ceiling. Then, inexplicably, he had _him_ arching his back at his mercy. 

For a minute or so they're content to lie there and kiss lazily and memorize the feel of the other, but soon they shift positions slightly so the process of pulling off clothes is a little easier. Trying to kick off your pants while under someone who is also trying to kick off their pants is surprisingly difficult to do. Especially when sensitive things keep getting brushed against by accident.

Too cold to disrobe completely, Danny managed to assist Dylan to pull his sweatpants to his ankles, twisting his hands into the sheets and tries to buck his hips back against those fingers teasing between his legs, but is stopped by Danny’s hand on his waist.

"Mean," is all Dylan manages to say before he presses his face into a pillow. The anticipation was killing him, needing so much more. "Mean?" questions Dan with a smirk. He pulls his fingers out and very, very slowly reinserts his index finger up to the second knuckle before pulling it out again. With his free hand he reaches between his mate’s legs to tease him with light strokes.

Dylan whined at the sudden feeling of being completely empty, but is more than compensated for when Danny at last presses the head of his cock against his ass. He goes a little stiff when Dan pushes into him, soothed by a biting kiss on his chest, and a hand stroking him.

Danny pulls in and out, teasing his mate with a painfully slow as fuck pace. A few bends and Danny pounds Dylan’s spot over and over again until Dylan shouted out as he came in his own hand. “D-Dylan…” he started to slump into the bed, only remaining upright as Danny continued to thrust, at last releasing, his arms turning to jelly. He collapsed on top of Dylan, hot breath against each other. “S-See? Not cold anymore…” He chuckled.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Income at only $200 over a few nights, if they were lucky, selling drugs and offering sexual favors (hardly working there) the duo was lucky rent hardly existed. $400 a month for that shit shack. Remaining in the shadows avoiding police and busy streets was yet another struggle they had to deal with, adding onto the constant fear of someone coming back for them.

“Hey, how much did you sell tonight?”  
“$50 worth of cocaine, $70 for weed, and uh… a single sale on ecstasy.”  
“150 total? Fuck.” Danny reached into his pocket, flashing three 100 dollar bills with a shit eating grin. “The fuck?!” Dylan snatched it from his fingers. “How the fuck did you get this?”

Danny sighed, tugging at his collar in shame. “Um… remember when I said I’d go down the Boulevard? I found this transvestite and he brought me to his car for a little--”  
“Whoa, stop right there. Dan, I fucking told you I don't want you letting strangers have sex with you?”  
“Jealous?” Danny huffed, drawing himself closer for warmth. “What do you expect, Dill? We’re not doing so good, even if there is only two of us. If this is going to be how we spend the rest of our lives--” He stopped himself.

Dylan grumbled, nudging him off. “We should get out of here. It's almost 3 in the morning.” They started to walk down the alleyways, anxiously trying to find the car. Halfway down the block, Danny pinched Dylan, whispering with uneasy tremors. “Someone is following us…”

Over his shoulder, Dylan could see a merky, anagogic figure a few car lengths behind. His hands swooped at his sides, pigeon toed as he walked. They picked up the pace,  suddenly having trouble recalling where they had parked Dylan’s car. 

The Mexican latched onto Danny, suddenly making a right turn, nearly tripping over his feet. Then another right turn. Danny picked up on what he was trying to accomplish. Still, the man was right behind them. Just like that, he disappeared. “Fuck.. I think we lost him.” Dylan whispered, studying where they were. They wandered so much, he couldn’t guess where they were. “Um… this way, around this corner. Our car is probably--”

Right around the corner, the man stood, leaning against a wall. He wasn’t… normal, though. He reclined on the wall, hunched over and softly spitting liquid. Dylan cocked his head, trying to make out a face, grazing his fingers over his pocket knife. Something that stuck out about this stranger was his hair. With his hood down, it looked like poodle hair.

“Matt.” Danny called.

The stranger wiped his mouth, jutting forward. Dylan clenched harder onto Danny. Weather it was Matthew or not, he was ready to defend and fight. Danny shifted around the figure, an angle from the street post giving a more definitive answer.

Matt was skin and bone, the heavy coat sagged on his shoulders. What was particularly frightening about him, was his face. Half of his facade was shriveled and burned, the char peeling from his face. It looked painful even looking at it. The damage spread down his neck, maybe even his chest, they couldn't tell.

“Matthew… Is it really you?” the killer only nodded, clinging his stomach. “You’re not… here to kill us, are you?” He shook his head, reaching for something in his pocket. “Then why _are_ you here?” Matt struggled to stay on his feet, moving inches away from Danny’s face. He reached up to touch a finger on the charred skin. Matt hissed, smacking the hand away before he could even feel a single digit.

“Matt, who did this to you?” Dylan asked, examining his former roommate. “Can you not speak?” Matt shook his head again, pressing his finger against his lips. The burns spread to his lips, melting the surrounding skin and sealing his lips, only a small hole remained in the corner, occupied by fresh blood and vomit from 60 seconds prior.

The serial killer reached into his pocket, fishing out a pencil and pad of paper. He quickly jotted something down, holding it up to the light for the couple to see.

_’Jorel’_

“Jorel did this to you?!” Danny uttered, biting his lip awaiting Matt’s next note. 

_’I hunted him down. Couldn’t fight them. He almost killed me.’_

“Why didn’t he?” Dylan questioned aloud. “I mean… There’s a motive behind it. Dan, don’t give me that look! I told you about the rubber bullets, why wouldn’t that murderous bastard end us all? For scare?”

Matt handed over another note they hadn’t even realized he was writing. _’Suffer’_

“Makes sense.” Danny shrugged. “He wanted us to live on, I guess. I mean, take a look at us now, Dill. We’re relying on prostitution just to get by at times.” He glanced at Matt. “You uh… shouldn’t be out here. You need to come with us.”  
“Objection.” Dylan muttered. “We can't uh… take him home! Remember what I said…”  
“For fuck’s sake, Dylan. Look at him! We can't leave him here.”

Matt violently shook his head, taking hold of Danny’s shoulder. “What?” He handed him a sealed envelope, practically shoving it through his chest. “Matt, what’re--” He started writing again, tears threatening to fall down his face. 

_’You must stop him.’_

“Stop him? I… I can't do that! I don't even know where he is, Matt. He vanished.” He killer made a half-assed attempt to smirk, tapping the envelope. “What will happen to you then?” Matt shrugged, peering around. With his thumb, a sicing motion near his neck. No doubt about it: Matt would either end up taking his own life, or dying on the streets. 

Never would he be known as someone who turned himself into the police. Cowardly. “Sorry ‘bout all this, Matty, um…” Dylan tried to look into his eyes. “You’ll be happy to know… we kept your drums. Your room is untouched still, Jorel’s bedroom is sealed, and Jordon was respectfully buried.

Matt’s eyes glistened. He cocked his head at the words. “Behind the house, in the woods… we thought it was the best thing for him, to be among nature rather than bake in the sun.” 

Again, Matt only nodded. Danny could see the rain on his eyes. He had never seen Matt cry, much less even show a shred of emotion other than wrath. He scribbled again, handing it over with trembling fingers. 

_’Sorry’_

“No, no, no. It’s fine, Matt… The hell is gonna happen to you anyways? You really outta come with us.” Matt continued to scratch on his pad, sniffling. He was almost sobbing at this point, a drop spilling onto the paper. Handing it over with trembling fingers, he wiped his nose clean.

_Take it. Stay low. Find him, finish the job and run.’_

No sooner after that did Matt begin to empty his pockets, handing over a variety of items like watches, rings, and small boxes to Dylan. “Whoa, whoa! What’s this shit?” Matt’s eyes insisted he took everything he had to offer, hurrying with everything. He pulled a gun from a holster in his pant leg, and one beneath his shirt, giving up any belongings he possessed. 

Danny knew why. Matt wouldn’t last much longer, why hold onto any items, especially of value, or evidence. Expensive jewelry, a tiny black box, packages of bullets, a pair of knives. Everything disposable. All that he had left of purpose or sentimental reason was his parka coat. “Keep that.” Danny insisted. 

Continuing to cry, Matt took the pad again. “You know… it doesn’t have to end this way…” Dylan started. “We have plenty of room, still. Money isn’t great, but… We can trade in--” Matt cut him off with a pitiful look. He handed the pad over once more, wrapping it in Danny’s hands like a synced prayer. 

Without looking, Danny gave him a quick, awkward hug, as well as Dylan. He attempted a half ass smile, and, with one final nod, began to limp away. Danny wanted to pull him back, but there was no use in trying to change his mind. 

After watching him disappear through the darkness, Dylan took Danny’s icy hand. “Let’s head home.” With the lights of the street, Danny slumped in the passenger seat of the car, reading the final note over, and over again. 

_’Give that devil my regards. Tell Jordon I love him, if I don’t do it first. So long.’_

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Days of intense thought provoking speculation and Daniel still couldn’t think of a solution. Matt raced after Jorel to end everything, and like his family before him, used man’s red flower to punish him, scarring him forever. Matt wandered the streets searching for him and Dylan, growing weaker with every step until he could pass on this information.

Within the contents of the letter, were copies of Jorel’s files, as well as a map of California with strange markings on it, as well as hidden areas highlighted with red pen. Printed articles of the fire and Jorel’s time in the hospital were also in there. What did this all mean?

Something particularly interested to the boys was a letter. It was not a letter from Jorel, or George. But from Matt. A confession letter. Inside the large yellow envelope, a smaller business one, containing an apology, as well as a list of the 26 people he’s killed, how they were killed, where they ended up. It had a poem that could only be assumed was about the fucked up love between Matt and Jordon. 

The poem was bleak, not very rhythmical, but chilling. It told the story of killing his family, and having an ‘irresistible lust’ he couldn’t contain, so he kidnapped him. In Matt’s apology letter, he stated any regrets and disregards, any feelings he bottled up inside from the people around him. 

All the items Matt handed over were from the people he’s killed, a collection from each, as well as the small box of 12 diamond cut rings that he had stolen from a jewelry store a year prior to meeting Jorel. Matt provided money for them. For good reason.

Danny needed to track Jorel and kill him. Matt gave him the supplies. He just needed to finish the job. Dylan was objective to the whole idea of finding the man that haunted their dreams to this day.

“Wouldn’t it be great, though? To slay the dragon that kept you locked away for so long? Defeat the demon that made you physically ill? Infected your life?”  
“Not about that, Danny… He wants to be alone, clearly. If we find him, it's us against him and George. We’ll lose.”  
“Not necessarily, babe. When we go, we’ll be better. Prepared.”  
“Fuck you! I am not risking my life for those assholes…”  
“Not even for your princess?” Danny smirked.

Dylan slumped, watching the newscaster talk about some sort of school program. He tried to ignore Danny’s sensual touches. “We can finally be at peace again.”  
“I think we’re doing just fine.”  
“Dylan…”

The newscaster shifted towards a different story, about a man who had been found dead wandering the street. The man was identified with long curly hair, pale blue eyes, and a half scarred face with third degree burns. The man recognized as the notorious killer, Da Kurlzz, who ruthlessly murdered several families in cold blood, robbing their homes afterwards of any value he could find. Only half the bodies of his victims were ever found. 

Dylan’s face went blank. Expressionless. Danny sighed, turning it off. “See what I mean?” the latter remained quiet for a moment, blinking thoughts away before sighing as well. “Yeah… you’re right. We need to find Jorel. Matt left clues, we just need to piece them together. Killing Jorel will allow them to rest in peace.”  
“I hope he found Jordon.”  
“Long way between those two gates… they can wave from that distance.”

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Fifteen months. Fifteen long, agonizing insightful months.

Apart from the drug runs every other night, the duo cleaned up their deplorable home, including Jorel’s nasty ass room. Dylan and Matt’s rooms were never too dirty; filthy clothes and food wrappers and cans littered like a teenager’s room, but it was nothing to stir up conflict. 

Matt’s room was left nearly untouched. All the trash was picked up, and the bed made. The cot was thrown outside and Matt’s drums remained. The basement’s weapons were moved to Dylan’s room, and they decided to get over their irrational fear of Jorel’s room and take it instead. Took two whole damn days to clean it. Trash, sick, fermenting animals and ornery smelling clothes were disposed of in bags and left in random dumpster locations. 

The animal pelts were cleaned a bit. The entire house smelled better, looked more inviting. The fridge and cabinets remained rather sad looking, and empty, yet, better than before with only two people.The dressers in Jorel’s room were replaced with their own as well as the queen sized bed. It was an upgrade for the couple, in more ways than one. 

Sex was as often as morning news. Fearing it would be the last few months of their lives, it was decided they would have as much of it as possible. Jorel left behind his intimidating toys behind; he had more than the group had even bargained for. The cat-o-nine tail that Danny so lovingly remembered, along with bedroom whips, cuffs, even vibrators. Sick ass man.

Dylan beamed, holding the black straps to Danny’s body like one would when finding the right shirt size. “Perfect fit.”  
“Me? Asshole, I think you mean for you.”  
“Oh but Danny… You’d never let me go if I allowed you to tie me up. You’d find yourself another, eh?”  
“If there was another, they’d be two feet taller, and twice as handsome. So, impossible…”

Danny thought a moment, hanging onto every pitiful look Dylan gave. A quiver on his lips like a child begging, and he gave in. “Just… be gentle. Last time I was tied up by you, I was hung from the ceiling.”

Dylan’s gut wrenched up at the memory. He was thankful Jorel’s absence lead to a different opportunity to associate himself with Danny. He didn’t _want_ to find Jorel again, but anything to make his mate happy…

The straps tethered to Danny’s wrists on either side of the bed’s top corners. Dylan kept Danny’s pants on, moving down to do his ankles next. “N-no! No feet, please.” Danny breathed, already anxious. “The sick memories would ruin it.”  
“Right… can I blindfold you?”  
“Only if you promise to never take your hand away…”  
“I promise.” Dylan used a plain black bandana rolled up, tucking it comfortably behind his head. “Okay, don’t move, alright?”

Dylan’s fingertips trailed Danny along the journey to the foot of the bed, never once departing his body, as promised. He straddled his hips, unlooping the button on his decaying jeans. Danny was shaking, he just knew this was a dumb idea. Dylan’s mouth bit skin, peeling down the waistband to move further down. 

Above him, Danny twisted his fingers in the restraints, yanking with minimal strength and arching his back. He trusted Dylan. He wouldn’t even think about harming him. A wicked smile crept onto Dylan’s lips. Slowly but firmly, he began to roll his hips, grinding his ass onto his lap. Danny wanted desperately to touch himself, or even Dylan, the pressure killing him.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Daniel?” he purred.  
“M-more like what you wanted, sunshine.” Danny bit his lip, shifting to wrap his bare legs around Dylan. 

Unable to stand the tightness of his jeans anymore, Dylan unzipped his fly and pulled out his hard dick. Danny had barely stopped long enough to allow him to do this before he lightly began to buck his hips, rubbing the curve of his ass up and down along Danny’s shaft, enjoying the soft moans he received.

Before long, Dylan pressed himself inside, leaning down to give Danny sweet, reassuring bites on his neck, taking in his mouth then at last moving. 

When all was over, Dylan gently untied the restraints, tossing them over. “No?”   
“Not too bad.” Danny was huffing from the rough sex, curling into a ball. “I could use a shower, though.” As he stood to leave, Dylan pulled him back down onto his lap, attacking his face with kisses. 

“Dilly, come on. I really need a shower.”  
“It can wait.” he suggestively rubbed his crotch, nibbling his ear.   
“Will you get the fuck off me?” Danny growled, elbowing him. Dylan groaned, rolling back over on the bed. Danny gathered a few fresh clothes, stopping at the door. “Coming, or no? Because if you want your turn, you better hurry before I change my mind.” He smirked, a small laugh escaping his mouth as Dylan leaped up to follow.

+=+=+=+=+=+

At long last. 

Jorel’s location was discovered a month ago, and now, with all the preparations out of the way, they were heading over to his hideout in two days. The car was packed with semi-automatic weapons, grenades, food for the 16 hour drive, and a pound of weed for the anxiety. 

Dylan was nearly certain shit would hit the fan. Sure, they could make it out alive with blood on their hands, but not unscaved. For the past few months, apart from this odd lifestyle, Dylan had felt more drawn to that adorable boy than ever before, living like a couple. It would be impossible to get legally married, though… But, they could pretend, right?

Snatched from the cold dead fingers of a stranger from the mountains visiting California, a stainless band with ruby red carbon fiber inlay. Sickening to ask a question like that before a grand scheme, but it was worth a shot. Dylan had gotten take out Mexican food, higher quality. They didn't have nice meals like this often. He treated the night like it was their last.

When he returned, Danny sat strumming his guitar, a soft nod and smile at Dylan as he hustled passed. “Food, whenever you’re ready.” He unpacked the carry-out boxes with a soft sigh. How the fuck do you tell your lover, who shares the same sickening intentions as you and commits horrible crimes with, that you love him way more than he could ever imagine? 

Candles. Candles are good… Dylan lit the few that they had and set them around the kitchen. He started playing the mellow music in anticipation for Danny to come inside. 

Outside, Dylan could hear the chords of Danny’s song, and his soothing voice take over.

_”It seems like everybody knows… you’re running in circles again… I fell into your perfect smile. No one should know about this… You keep your smile, and I’ll keep this to myself… You’re a wonderful thing, and that’s obvious, but don't light that cigarette again. You’re a wonderful thing, and that’s obvious. I don't need a second opinion about anything.”_

It was the most beautiful thing in the world to Dylan whenever Danny would sing. For those few moments, the world became a much smaller place. He thought about the different circumstances they would be facing had they never met. Dylan could be dead by now, for all he knew. 

It seems like everybody knows that you’re not gonna be around this time next year. Frontline demanding activity. The cash flow slows and now they need your dream. Your Dream…” 

He was probably wrong, but Dylan could only assume the song was either about him, or maybe his mother. He creaked the door open, just to hear him more clearly.

_”Your giving me a heart attack. But we'll keep this to ourselves. So that was running through my mind as I walked right through the room to you. You’re a wonderful thing, and that’s obvious, don’t need a second opinion.”_   
“Uh, what you doing?”

Dylan smirked, being caught. “You’re just amazing to listen to.”  
“Pffth, whatever.” Danny’s smile was absolutely stunning, lifting himself from the steps of the porch to follow Dylan inside. “The fuck is with the candles?”  
“Um, just a little touch. We leave pretty early, let’s enjoy this night.”  
“For the last time, Dylan. It’s not our last meal. We’ll make it through alive.”  
“I know, I know… Still, isn’t it nice to just enjoy a dinner like this sometime?”

“I guess, yeah…” Not the reaction Dylan was hoping for. Still, they sad around the kitchen island scarfing down the carry-out. “This isn’t your thing, is it?”  
“What you mean?” Danny had a mouthful, patting his mouth with a napkin.  
“Just… this. Candlelight, soft music, shit like that.”  
“Eh? A bit too lovey dovey for me, to be honest. Actually, all my years, nobody’s ever done something like this. I’ve never done this for anyone else, either. Why?”

Dylan squeezed the ring in his pocket.

“I just…” His pause left Danny confused, and concerned. “Something wrong?”

Richard Marx’s _‘Right Here Waiting.’_  suddenly started playing, and Dylan sighed, changing the subject. “Um… Ever slow danced?”  
“Not since homecoming, freshman year of college. You can’t be serious?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, homo, have this dance with me, if you really want to.”  
“You sure? I was kinda kidding.”  
“Liar. You just wanna get laid. I’ll play your game.” Danny pulled Dylan’s arm playfully, dragging him to the living room with a childish giggle.

“I really don't, Dan.” Dylan laughed, suddenly uncomfortably unsure as Danny positioned his hands, one at his waist, the other holding his hand. “Hey, I’m game. Anyone who doesn’t dance to this shit is a little bitch, anyways. It’s only standard.”

Dylan snickered, kissing Danny’s hand before wrapping it around his neck like a necklace, pressing their bodies awkwardly. Why? Why is it that they can easily have sex like it’s an everyday thing (Which it seemed like it) But he was so nervous swaying softly with Danny in this short dance? For the majority of the song, they continued to have a dull pace to the dance, trying not to step on toes. Dylan hummed in Danny’s ear.

“Ya know, I may regret meeting you at times, but this is actually so nice it seemed worth it.” Danny’s head whipped back. “What?”  
“Regret? Really?”  
“Well, just taking you away like that. From your life.”  
“But you… don’t--”  
“Danny, not like that. I just… Wish it didn’t end up like this. I almost didn’t approach you that day, but I was kinda forced to under Jorel’s orders. Had I never interfered with your life, you’d be in a better place, we all know that.”

“A better place?” Danny’s hands removed themselves from his body. “Dylan, this is my fucking destiny. Not only to take down Jorel, but to be with you. To be in this business, this industry.”

No, he couldn’t be more wrong. Dylan stayed quiet. He wasn’t about to pick a fight. The song ended, and Danny sighed awkwardly. “We should get to bed. Have to wake up at 4am if we want to avoid any traffic.”

As he began to dispose of the food in the trash, Dylan took out the ring, squeezing it in his hands. “Dan!”  
“Hmm?”  
“I need to ask you something.”  
“What is it?” Danny looked right into his eyes with those huge adorable chocolate orbs of his. 

“Will you… uhm…”  
“Will I…?” Danny tried assisting.  
“Uh… put mine in the fridge? So I can eat the rest in the morning before we go? Long ways, right?”  
“Sure. Fuck, was it really that hard to ask me that?”

Yes. Yes it was. Dylan shoved the ring back inside his jeans, following Danny to the bedroom. Tomorrow was the day they began their journey. 

Journey to Covelo, California.

+=+=+=+=+=+=

“Would you like something to eat?”  
“I told you… ah… I need you, first.”  
“You need to eat, too.”  
“Fine, fine. Dessert first, though.”  

Jorel nuzzled George closer, hands softly raking his upper back as he continued to softly wedge himself inside Jorel’s tight hole. Jorel felt a little nauseated, the coil in his stomach finally releasing as he came all over himself and George’s stomach. Once his partner finished, the pulled out, brushing Jorel’s rapidly growing hair.

“I’ll get you something to snack on, and bring you your medication with it, along with some pepto tablets for that stomachache. You want to refill your water bottle?”  
“Yes, please. I’m gonna try to catch a nap after I eat, though, if that’s alright.”  
“Of course.” George slipped on sweatpants on Jorel, and got him a comfy shirt as well. 

Maneuvering his legs, George covered the gangster in a layer of blankets, tucking him in. “I’ll be back with a tray, alright? Then we can watch the remaining season of HTGAWM.”  
“Nnng… I hope her baby comes out okay.”

George grinned with sadness and amusement. “Yeah, me too. Be right back, okay?” George smooched the top of Jorel’s head, headed for their kitchen. “George, be sure you lock the doors _and_ the windows tonight. I swear, it could happen any day now.”

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

“This town is so sad looking.”  
“Small place. A little beaten up.”  
“Well, we should find the place first, then a place to park until dusk. When midnight hits, we’ll strike.”

Jorel’s hidden home was a rather plain yet picturesque and fanciful cabin up a hill surrounded by woodland. The cabin was 2 stories high, with large windows. Luxorious. Seemed he had a thing for cabins and the woods. Freaky movie. Suited him, though. 

“Definitely the place. That’s their car. I wonder why the’re just… here? You’d think they’d go to a bigger city, or shit, out of the country. But only 10 hours away? What would the motive be?”  
“We’ll know sooner than later.” Dylan quickly reversed, searching for a place they could park until dark. They wandered the town a little bit, taking piss breaks and finding food to munch on.

The sun began to fall, and, Dylan started to get anxious. Riled up. He didn't feel the need to try Danny’s patience, though. They assembled their weapons, wearing bullet-proof vests beneath their hoodies and keeping walkie-talkies on themselves. 

After testing, Danny snickered to himself childishly. “Haven’t had one one these since I was a kid… me and my brothers would play with them. Shit, you ever do that can thing? Where you feed string through a hole at the bottom of a cup or can and when it was tightened, you can hear the other person? Total bullshit, but so damn fun, for what it was worth.”

Dylan blinked. He would play that same shtity game with his father and sister. “Listen, before we go in, I wanna give you something.”  
“No time for dick.” Danny laughed heartily.   
“Uh… No. I just.. Um.. heh.”  
“Spit it out, Dylan, heh. There’s still time for a speech. Oh, me first, though.”  
“Oh. Okay.”

“Listen… I’m sure you didn’t mean it in any provoking way when you said you regretted picking me. I get it, you wanted me to have a better life. But I realize now that it’s almost like this was a destiny, in some sort. I was always told things happen for a reason… So, I want to apologize for getting angry with you. You meant well. I didn’t mean to disrespect you… after our first impression, and the whole… ya know. Things of course changed… I hope at least you changed. I didn’t know you really liked me. I’m sorry for the wrong things that I’ve done--”

“Dan.”  
“Hey, I was getting full on Shia Labeouf on you and you interrupt?”  
“I… More than just really like you, if we’re being honest here.”  
“Good, glad you feel the same.”  
“May not be my turn, but… I want you to have this. Weather we make it or not, please have it.” Dylan pulled out the wedding band, holding it up to Danny. 

After clicking the light on, Danny puffed. “Good God, Dylan. Was that from Matt’s stash?”  
“No… Ragan mansion. From a tourist. I know we can never get married in real life, but I was hoping…” Danny pinched the ring, sliding it onto his ring finger. “Wait, isn’t this what that whole slow dance shit was about?”  
“Ha! Yeah… Stupid, right?”  
“You could’ve just asked, dumbo. I would’ve said yes regardless. Fuck, just say ‘Danny, you’re fake marrying me, end of discussion.’”

Dylan snorted, a yelp escaping as Danny yanked him in for a biting kiss. “Now, fake husband, let’s Bonnie and Clyde our way in there and get this show on the road.”

\---

It was a little concerning when the duo first walked up to the home. The lights were still on. Shouldn’t have been surprised, Jorel always stayed up until 3 am, waking up at noon. It was the best system to peddle shit on the streets. They decided to enter on opposite sides, lowering a risk of being caught together. Dylan tried taking in the vintage style home, classic wallpaper and grandmother-like furniture. Very clean, surprisingly. As he explored, noticing the old family pictures and musk atmosphere, there was a sense of being completing the empty halls. 

A room emanating light had the sounds of water running, like a shower. Slowly, Dylan turned the knob, and stepped inside.

George. 

His back was turned, washing himself in the shower whilst humming a little tune. Dylan mustered up all the courage he could, sliding out his desert eagle pistol from his pocket. He really didn’t want to kill George. But, he was the man who assisted in his several beatings, and the first one to rape him upon entering the home.

Drawing the weapon back, Dylan raised it, squinting his eyes to steady his target through the glass. George cocked his head to the side, lazily moving his body towards the door. He spotted Dylan moments before he pulled the trigger, softly gasping.

“Wait!--”

Click.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Danny found an entrance into the home much faster than anticipated. He headed up the stairwell immediately. Jorel would definitely be on the higher floor, if not, his bedroom surely would be. The now king sized bed was messy, with an empty tray of food perched on a desk nearby. Prescription bottles and a Tums on the dresser, and a replay of HTGAWM on mute. 

“Hmm..” Danny chirped, examining the room. To the side, a door was ajar. Peering through, was a desk, and a man occupying it. One of them, for sure. Danny readied himself, clasping the gun tightly in both hands, tip-toeing to the door. He swung it open, ready to aim. 

Jorel sat at a desk, head hung low as he wrote in a journal. The sudden noise made him jump, looking up with fear. Danny was taken aback by his appearance. He grew a small amount of facial hair, his hair shaggy, eyes red and bleary. He seemed afraid, dropping his pen. “D-Danny…”

“You just stop talking right there, because I have a mouthful to give to you first.” Jorel only nodded. “Fine… but before you do… I wouldn’t advise strongly in having a weapon like that. George is still in the house, you know?”  
“Yeah? So is Dylan. He’ll take care of it.” Danny shut the door, lowering his eagle. “Come face me, fucking coward.”

Eager to fight, Jorel wasn’t very quick with his movements. Rather than getting up, he seemed to remain in his chair… with wheels. Jorel was in a wheelchair, slowly migrating himself to the open in front of Danny. 

More confused than anything, Danny stopped. “Jorel… what the fuck? George spank you that damn hard you can't move anymore?”

Jorel frowned, fiddling his thumbs. “You don't know the half of it, Daniel. Just speak your mind already. I’ve been waiting for you.”  
“Have you? Doesn’t surprise me. After you nearly tried to kill Matt… and your fucking brute you claim you love snapping Jordon's neck! Did he deserve that?”  
“No… he didn’t.”  
“You first! Start talking. What’s going on?”

“Fine… Danny, I’m on the brink of maybe dying. I’m sick… very sick. Fuck, I’m probably exaggerating though. George takes good care of me…”  
“So sick you need a damn wheelchair?”

Jorel swallowed, reaching down to lift his pant legs up. There were scars, presumably from knife wounds, scattered on his calves and thighs. “I don't really need it to walk, but the pressure is so damn tremendous it helps sometimes… If you’ll allow me, I’d like to explain myself from the beginning.”  
“I’m all ears.” Danny mumbled, keeping caution as Jorel reached for papers on the desk.

“Those papers I had you retrieve long ago… you probably know by now the true purpose. After I set fire to my family home, I was dubbed mentally insane, and sent to a psych ward to try to get better. Well, I never really did… It’s not that I had lost my mind completely, they just felt the need to keep me there until I found some shred of humanity. Somehow, I knew they’d never let me go. 

“Eventually, they started doing little experiments on me. Illegally. I was the ass for several wicked and tortuous ‘scientific’ research projects. They would tie me to my bed, draw blood from several places to test me. The scars you saw, along with the ones on my torso, are just a few leftover scars from the projects. They toyed with my head often… so many sessions of testing my brain waves. I developed a condition, and they decided it was best to treat me some other way. 

“Lobotomy was the worst experience in my life. After that, something inside my mind clicked, and I assaulted a nurse, stabbing her in the stomach. From that, I realized I enjoyed inflicting pain on others. I wasn’t tested  much after that, but I knew my place wasn’t in there, but out there. I escaped the ward, wandering the streets until I found George. He took care of me like a lost puppy… i told him I wanted to start up a gang. Mainly so I could retrieve those damn papers, but it got out of hand quickly. Matt was my first mitake. Befriending a fucking serial killer. Sure, he proved more useful than expected, but because of his influence, I became more and more ruthless by the day. George continued to take care of me, and it didn’t take long before I decided I didn’t want to go out in that way.

“So, I ordered Dylan to stalk a few college kids. And he found you. I wanted my papers from the school’s psychology professor, who happened to have my records, so I could escape this shithole and live elsewhere, here, my new home. In case you were wondering, George and I have been living peacefully with the $800k we salvaged. For now, I just want serenity. Without him, I wouldn’t really take care of myself.”

Jorel took a sip of water, refreshing his parched throat. “So that’s it?” Danny shrugged. “You were willing to hurt others, abandon and murder those who have been so fucking afraid of you at day one, just so you can take a permanent vacation to live out the rest of your miserable fucking days?”

“Look, I know it’s hard to understand, or believe. But, it’s the solid truth. I’m a fucking schizophrenic, my mind tends to wander elsewhere, and I get out of control. But, he loves me.”

“Does he?” Danny cocked his head, waiting for whatever juicy answer Jorel had, when out of nowhere, a gunshot was heard from downstairs, distracting Danny’s mind enough for him to look behind in worry. 

Jorel leaped from his wheelchair, tackling Danny to the ground with a mighty roar, knocking the gun from his hands, wrestling him with all the strength he had. Danny forgot how vigorous and strong he truly was, desperately fighting back, arms pinned to the floor. “J-Jorel…”

“Your time ends here.”

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Dylan’s bullet penetrated through the glass, hitting George’s right shoulder. The man sharply gasped, and unhurriedly fell on the bathroom floor, the glass shattering around him. Dylan carefully approached, aiming the gun at his head. George gagged wheezed, glancing up at his shooter. 

“I should kill you… why did you do this?” He leaned down, taking George’s eager hand into his.   
“Dylan… we all have a purpose. Even you.”  
“George?”  
“Mine is to serve Jorel… I fell in love.”  
“What’s that got to do with--”  
“Dylan! I had to take him away from the doctors…” George’s voice was filled with pain, but he continued on. “You don't know what it was like for him… he suffered every single fucking day, and when I found him, I couldn’t take him back to the psych ward. I wanted to help him getting his documents back, and finding peace.”

“Experiments. His cuts.”  
“Yeah… I know you won't believe it, but he’s a good boy, really. He never meant to hurt anyone.”  
“Hurt anyone? He’s killed dozens of men! You BOTH fucking tortured me raw! Sat back while a serial killer poisoned the streets. We were forced to peddle the streets as a way of survival… Danny isn’t the fucking same.”  
“No… but he was just what Jorel was looking for. Not just to steal the documents, but to take his place. At least, that was the original plan. Had you guys not interfere with our escape, he would have taken over. I guarantee it.”

“You don't know. He’s a lot like Jorel, yes… but he’s changed more than just a ruthless killer. We’re living like you guys. The home is cleaner.”

George attempted a laugh. “See? You’re me. He’s Jorel. Two thin circus freaks living away from society, taking care of one another, surviving in any way you could find.” They suddenly heard screaming, almost like a struggle from upstairs. They recognized Danny’s frightened voice, and Jorel’s grunts like there was a fight.

“Dylan, I want you to do something for me, and we don't have much time.”

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Jorel slipped a knife from his pocket. His specialty, swinging it in the air. The two mostly fought with fists, throwing each other across the room, kicking and biting. Danny shoved Jorel into his desk, wiping blood from his mouth. “Come on, you fucker!”

“What, aren’t you gonna be the hero? Your move, Goldie!”  
“Fuck you! You fucking ruined my fucking life, you fucking sick FUCK!”  
“No need for profanity.”  
“No, you shit fuck! If it hadn’t been for you, my life would be great! My mother would be alive, I’d be in record studios, getting married and having kids, living my best dream!”  
“Hey, you’re the one who killed your own mother, not me.”

Danny sighed, shaking his head. “You tortured me… You burrowed your way into my head, misdirected my anger, practically forcing my mind to believe killing a man was a good thing… you cost my my one chance to have my life restored!”  
“Hey, so did you. You could’ve just stayed there, happy as can fucking be. And yet, here we stand. What do you call that?”

“Oh, you would’ve like that, wouldn't you? Just admit you killed me! You ruined me! The other me is fucking dead! Now, you just wanna stay the fuck away from us for eternity, rotting your days away.”  
“Go home! Go home and fucking cry about it!”  
“Admit it!”  
“NEVER!”

Danny howled, throwing himself on Jorel again. A sudden sharp pain in his stomach. Jorel had lodged the knife inside his abdomen, pushing him off. Danny gagged, tumbling over. Snatching up the gun, Jorel aimed it down at Danny’s head. “Say hello to the rest of the trash for me.”

Dylan fired his gun again, at the floor. Jorel quickly took aim, only to be tackled to the ground yet again by a different occupant. Dylan pounded his head with the back of the gun, quickly stumbling over to Danny. “Danny? Fuck, Dan?!” He slid the knife out, quickly removing his shirt, wadding it into a ball and applying great pressure to the wound. “Shh, it’ll be fine.”

Jorel began to rise again. “Fucking bitch. As always. Typical of you, Dylan! You wonder why I had to beat the fuck out of you so many times. You’re a bitch! Fucking coward!” 

With a growl, Dylan turned, firing his gun yet again. The bullet hit Jorel’s chest,  spilling blood on the ground. He quickly forced Danny’s shivering fingers on his shirt, sliding out another cartridge to insert into his weapon. Jorel was limping away towards the door for a petty escape.

Dylan shot again. “Guah! My leg!” Jorel collapsed on the floor, Dylan shoving him on his back with a foot. “Y-You can't! I-I’m unarmed!” Ignoring him, Dylan squatted down before him.

“You kill me, and your soul will be as cursed as mine! Oomph--” Dylan shoved the barrel inside Jorel’s mouth. “This… is for George.”

Click.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

He was vanquished. A final favor was provided, and Dylan carried Danny to the living room downstairs, patching him up. “We will stay here for a few days.” Dylan started to explain, threading a needle to stitch him up. “We’ll be given an escort as soon as you’re able to travel.”  
“Huh?”  
“Silly, you’re bleeding pretty bad. You’ll need strength to endure the car ride back.”  
“Wha…. what escort though? Did you ever find George?”

George stood in the doorway suddenly, blank look on his face, and nodded once. Danny noticed the blood on his shoulder through a white patch. “If you wanna go back, that’s fine. He’s offered us a home within the estate here. Plenty of bedrooms. We would have to go back for our clothes and money, though.”

“I don't understand.” Dylan smiled, softly kissing Danny’s quaking lips. “Husband… the plague is gone. We are all free. George let him go. He loved him, sure, but his mind wasn’t at peace. He’ll find his sanctuary somewhere else. Now, our fallen friends can rest in peace, as will we, every night we close our eyes.”

“What about George?”  
“Please, stay.” George started. “Danny, you understand why I had to have him killed. I couldn’t do it myself… wasn’t brave enough. As with your mother, he’s better off settling things in the afterlife. If you wish to leave, you can.”

Danny looked at Dylan, shrugging. “Happily ever after?”  
“Heh, maybe. We still have our life ahead of us.”  
“What if we… don’t make it?”  
“Dan, what did I tell ya? I’ll never, ever, let you fall. It’s a promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The song Danny was singing was from his first band Lorene Drive called 'For the rest of us.' Look it up! beautiful! If you enjoyed this series, please let me know! Don't worry, I have more ideas to come. And, sorry it took so long. I wanted it to be good. The ending was re-written 4 damn times. But, it all worked out. 
> 
> thanks for sticking around this shit show, guys! Until next time~~


End file.
